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Season 5 Finale
His body shifting with the last of his big rig’s forward momentum, Rocky slows the vehicle to a halt, pushed back into his seat as the tires finally roll to a stop. “We’ve been on the road for almost thirty hours, Rocky” Franklin remarks groggily, having made up for lost sleep over the last few hours, “I’ll ask again- what’s the plan?” In pause, Rocky peers through the windshield, the unimpressive entrance to the settlement allowing him to leave space in his heart for optimism. “Well, it may be a tall ask, but I reckon this place can be humane if you treat it right” Rocky replies, his left hand lying limp on the top of the steering wheel, “I’m sure they can take some of us in. All of us, however, is unlikely.” “Are- that’s- that’s your plan?” Jack quickly speaks aloud, “throw fire at the problem and hope the people- who I’d like to remind you, voted against that fair share you were after- decide to forgive and forget?” Swaying his head, Rocky casts the man’s concerns aside, already too devoted to the idea he’s conjured in his mind. “Do you prefer sneaking off into the woods and living life in hiding?” Rocky rejoinders, “good luck strolling your way into Nova Scotia then!” Regret beginning to consume him, Jack presses his hands onto his lap as he gathers breath, his mind too full to continue the conversation. “Listen, if the four of you hadn’t shown up, I’d still be in Rockford counting down the days to a revolution- but I’m not” Rocky continues, aware of the lack in susceptibility within the crowd he panders to. “Not only do I owe the four of you that ticket to Nova Scotia, but I owe my people a home” Rocky begins to finish, letting his door open as he does, “if I’ve got to get on my knees and grovel, so be it. You do what you need to do.” Nothing left to say, Rocky climbs down from his seat in the cabin, both Jack and Franklin left to look at each other with silence, the latter man following Rocky’s lead in exiting the vehicle. “How’s it going, friend?” Rocky wonders aloud, enough anxiety over the world he enters to guide his hand toward the package of darts in his shirt pocket, “it’s a lovely evening, ain’t it?” Nervously strolling around the truck’s front, Jack and Franklin hang back, watching the man speak from a safe distance. “What’s his plan?” Nessie whispers, equally as out of the loop as Clint, who follows her closely as they reunite with the men ahead. “Please back your trucks away from the gate” Sal replies, stood atop a platform in a nearby tree, armed with an automatic rifle and a full view of the world beyond the border wall. “Hold up, we’re not looking for any trouble, and we’re not here to hassle you folks” Rocky replies, holding the tobacco end of his dart over the small flame of his lighter, “we’re just hoping for a little hospitality.” “We hold no hospitality for turncoats” Sal replies, his rifle aimed toward the ground, though both hands rest upon it in preparation, “there’s no welcome for people like you in Cumberland.” The hand he holds his dart in falling to his side, Rocky exhales a cloud of smoke, eyes kept on the man above. “They weren’t the turncoats, I was” Rocky returns, beginning to worry his efforts may be for nothing, “screen them, take in the people you want. Do whatever you feel you must and I’ll go.” “You’re a wanted man, Rocky” Sal replies quickly, passing a nod to the subordinates that remain hidden from Rockford’s view, “you won’t make it far regardless.” Pulling another drag, Rocky shrugs, holding back the intake as he responds. “All the more reason to give the rest of them a chance!” Rocky continues, letting the smoke escape through his nostrils, blown back by the steady winds that flow from the east, “you can turn me in and get yourselves a nice little reward from the big guys.” Pulling his weapon a few inches away from his hip, Sal prepares himself for whatever outcome may emerge of his refusal. “We’re not obligated to do right by the people you made the choice to neglect” Sal reiterates, voicing the orders of those who’ve given them to him, “and for the record, we’re not in a place to support an increase of a few thousand citizens even if we wanted to- which we still don’t.” His teeth clenched, Rocky takes in another pull of his dart, the cloud held in his lungs for a few seconds before finding its way to the air beyond his lips, no words uttered throughout that time. “I have people that could be of value to you. They’re strong people, I’d argue they’re as dedicated as any” Rocky pursues, paying no mind to the subtle shake of Sal’s head, “at least give them a look?” “We’re not accepting any of your residents, Rocky” Sal reaffirms, holding stiff in the upholding of his orders, “I’m not breaking policy for some ungrateful saps.” His worry having turned into disappointment throughout the conversation’s length, Rocky’s eyes take on a squint, offence taken to the claim that now draws an annoyance out from him, the dart silently guided back to his lips. “Ungrateful saps?” Rocky soon murmurs beneath his breath, almost reaching the depths required to certify it as a growl, “ungrateful saps!?” he shouts back, this time much louder. “We’re fed scraps because we made one tiny mistake, can’t afford to feed ourselves well because of one tiny mistake, and that makes us ungrateful!?” the smoker yells, pacing around the front lot in a fit of anger, “that’s real easy to say when your greedy ass is fed with our food!” “Turn your vehicles away from the gates, Rocky” Sal repeats, worriedly holding his weapon a few inches further toward the desperate leader, though he remains confident in his speech, “you’re not winning this one.” His narrow eyes widening, Rocky stares at Sal for another few seconds, inspecting the weapon the man holds at his waist. Pupils dilated, Rocky begins to turn away, nodding his head as he quietly pulls another drag from his dart. “Sir, we’re sorry for showing up like this. If we could go back, I’m sure we’d all prefer to meet on better terms” Jack calls out, earning Sal’s attention as he takes over for Rocky, “in fairness, Rockford’s been cut short for years. I’m sure no reasonable man could blame anyone for wanting the pay they feel they’re ow-” Stood there in one moment and gone the next, a single bullet rips through Sal’s skull just as Jack prepares to finish his plea, the smoking gun far closer than they’d wish it were. “Everyone in the fucking trucks!” Rocky exclaims, the dart he’d come close to finishing tossed into the gravel as he climbs back into the big rig, returning his handgun to the holster on his side. “What the hell did you just do!?” Jack barks, an unmistakable anger coursing through his body. “Calling an audible!” Rocky shouts back, slamming his rig’s door as he transitions the vehicle into drive, his foot slamming on the gas pedal without offering Jack’s group the opportunity to climb aboard. His wheels spinning in the dirt, Rocky forces his tractor trailer through the gates and continues driving, entering Cumberland’s quiet, midnight streets by force. “Come on, we’ve gotta go!” Nessie calls aloud, waving for Jack and Franklin to join Clint and herself in the seats of a nearby SUV. Without yet knowing it, Jack and Franklin’s decision has already been made, the eighteen wheelers, trucks and other vehicles riding into Rocky’s shadow only clarifying their destination. Unable to turn back any longer, Jack and Franklin take the siblings up on their offer, joining them in the convoy vehicle just as it couples with the herd. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = “Are you sure they’re at the diner?” Emilio hurriedly asks, rushing from one end of the house to another as sirens blare throughout the streets. “They only left forty minutes ago, I seriously doubt they made the twenty minute walk, sat down and finished their meal already” Alicia calls back, holstering a loaded handgun onto her side, “even if they did, I have a hard time believing they wouldn’t hide out somewhere.” His boots clattering against the floor, Emilio dashes into the kitchen, his hand reaching into a drawer close to the floorboards, where his hand axe lies waiting. “Alright, keep away from the windows and stay close to the ground” Emilio warns, watching Alicia dig her spear out from behind the coats of their nearby closet. “If things get bad, we run for the cellar” Emilio continues, his hands resting upon Alicia’s shoulders, “you’ve got a baby on board- don’t go playing superhe-” The sound of gunfire cutting him off, Emilio pulls Alicia to the floor with him, each bullet that’s fired coming increasingly closer. His body laid over Alicia’s own, Emilio waits for the storm to pass, soon discovering himself to fall directly in the middle of it. The bullets now reaching their home, Emilio presses his hands to each ear, shielding himself from the shards of glass that fall upon their hardwood floors, bullets ripping through their home with intent to kill. Removing the weapon from Alicia’s holster, Emilio throws himself into the wall just beside the window, prepared to return fire. “Get to the basement, I’ll cover you!” Emilio exclaims, blindly opening fire on the gunmen before any attempt to dissuade him can be offered. Left with no further choice, Alicia retrieves her spear from the floor and makes a run for the sublevel, the door left open in hopes of Emilio following. Her footsteps shifting the unsteady bannister, Alicia reaches the bottom step, the poorly lit cellar that surrounds her doubling as a rather large concrete crypt, only the sounds of war aid in making her new surroundings less intimidating than they truly are. “Alicia, get down!” Emilio yells from above in a horrifying scream, his voice guiding the woman’s eyes back the way she’d arrived. For a brief moment, Alicia can see Emilio’s figure hurry past the door through the small crack she’d left open, his hands immediately pressing the door shut on his way by, never once thinking to join her below. Recalling Emilio’s advice, Alicia sprints over to a stack of rubber tires, dropping to the ground right beside them just as the house begins to quake. In a sudden moment, the ground moves, every light in the home goes dark as the world above explodes, a roaring blast the most appalling event of them all. Though the debris still rains, the second-long detonation subsides, the damage it’s done, even from an unaware eye, easy to assume. Peering toward the top of the staircase, Alicia finds the same sight she’d seen just seconds before, the only difference being the various cables that sway from the commotion. | Funnelling through the diner’s entrance, wait staff and patrons spill into the chaos-ridden streets, accepting the risks as they tempt fate into taking them swiftly. “They’re all gonna get themselves killed” Angela remarks, following Salem and Lauren to the diner’s kitchen, the three women holding more composure than every other customer combined. “Get whatever looks like the best weapon” Salem commands, leading the charge into the prep area, “we might need it.” “Who the fuck did we piss off so bad!?” Lauren grunts, very distant bursts of gunfire still herd through the kitchen’s walls. “Whoever it is, they’ve got quite the arsenal” Salem responds, her eyes taken toward a rubber mallet resting just beside the kitchen counter. “It doesn’t matter who we pissed off, it matters that we find somewhere safe” Angela replies, her fingers wrapped around the base of a rolling pin, “Unless they like Betty Crocker, I don’t think we stand much of a chance here.” Her boots tapping against the kitchen’s tiled floor, Salem approaches the building’s rear exit, peering through the window and into the alley beyond. Letting her breaths calm, Salem considers her choices in silence. “Whether my odds are high or low, I don’t care” Salem answers, turning back to look her friends in the eye, “I’m gonna make my dues out there, either join me or don’t- I won’t make the offer twice.” “Hell no!” Angela shouts back, taking no time to even consider the offer made, “I’ll find somewhere safe to settle in.” One answer offered, Salem turns her focus onto Lauren, her hand pressing against the rear exit door, ready to hurry into the night. “I think I’ll stay back, too” Lauren replies with a shrug, “diners haven’t been too bad to me in the past.” With a huff, Salem gives the women a nod as she steps into the alley, “good luck” she mutters, shielded by nightfall as she sprints into action. “Excuse me?” a jittery waitress inquires, stepping into the kitchen from the larger diner, noticing Lauren and Angela’s figures through the serving hatch. Turning silently, the women acknowledge the worker, waiting for her to speak up. “I- I’m Nia” the waitress murmurs, again receiving no more than a silent stare from the survivors. “O- ok?” Lauren responds, waving her hand to motion for the waitress to continue speaking. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting people to be back here” Nia nervously replies, trying hard to place her mind at ease. “Ha! Hahaha!” a deranged voice exclaims from the diner, firing his rifle off as he bursts through the doors. Throwing herself behind a stack of crates, Lauren pulls her knees close, the knife she’d claimed possession of readied at her side. Less fortunate, Angela and Nia squeeze into a corner, Angela’s shoulders touching two sides of the same wall whilst Nia trembles against her, her heavy breathing amplified by the tight corners they reside within. “Order up!” the voice cheerfully exclaims, enjoying his rampage slightly more than others would. Skipping into the kitchen, the man begins to fire rounds into the ceiling, his attention taken from the clouds of debris that fall upon his shoulders the moment his ears catch a squeal from afar. “Hello?” the man calls out, his insane persona set aside in favour of a more natural tone, almost wholesome in a way. Raising his firearm toward the kitchen’s exit, the man steps forward, the weapon trembling in his grasp. “Come on out, little one” the man says menacingly, squeezing the trigger once, a bullet ripping into the drywall at the kitchen’s rear. Catching another squeal, a smile breaks out along the gunman’s face, his eyes lighting up with joy as he pulls the trigger for a second time. “All of this food should have been mine!” the man roars, pulling the trigger for a third time, “you dirty fucks have been eating off my plate!” A fourth, fifth, and sixth pull of the trigger emptying the magazine, the man proceeds forward, toying with those that lie in wait like prey as he reloads. “I’m so glad Rocky finally got the big picture! Your camp is ours now!” the man cheers, pulling the trigger another three times, only hearing the squeals grow louder. Pressing her teeth together, Angela feels Nia’s body tremor against her own, feeling the security of her hiding spot diminish with every provocation. “We’re gonna put you little chickens to bed, bitch!” the man howls again, three further rounds put into the building’s dry wall, each earning a louder shriek than before. Barely able to see Lauren, Angela listens to the third shot ring out, her eyelids closing as the man’s voice grows nearer. “Come get what you deserve, asshole!” the man exclaims once more, his demands unexpectedly met by force. Her back against the wall in the most literal sense, Angela lets her survival instincts take over, her hands lifting to Nia’s upper back with a shove, kicking the woman out into enemy territory. “Hey!” Nia exclaims, screaming in betrayal as she looks the gunman in the eyes, his weapon already aimed. Letting the one gunshot emerge, Angela wastes no time in peering around the corner, the rolling pin thrown from her hand before Nia’s body even has the chance to hit the floor. Taken aback by the attack, the gunman braces, letting the object graze his arms before preparing to fire his weapon again. “You b-!” the man exclaims whilst Lauren sprints out from cover. Before he can take notice, Lauren’s blade swings through the air without another shot taken. Jabbed in the breastplate, the man crumbles to his knees, the firearm he drops on the floor finding its way into Lauren’s possession. Taking no chances, Lauren lifts the barrel to the man’s head, spilling his brains against the off-white floor below in relief. Gasping for each breath, Lauren glances toward Angela, unable to look in the woman’s direction without seeing Nia’s bloody carcass strewn on the ground. “You could’ve waited until he was out” Lauren grouses, crouching close to the ground with her hands pressed into her knees. Forcing herself to pay an eye to the bloody mess beside her, Angela steps up to Lauren, stood over the kneeling woman without remorse. “I did what it took to survive” Angela grumbles, stepping over what remains of the ceiling tiles on her way back to the dining room, “that’s what matters.” | Her finger pushing the curtains aside, Heather watches the flashes of light in the distance, the faint sounds of explosions roaring beyond the street. “When Jade said this place was like the world as it used to be, I was assuming she didn’t mean Syria” Jess groans, sitting on her bed with Amy wrapped up in her arms. “This isn’t a time for jokes, Jess” Heather responds, the salt lamp on the woman’s dresser coating the room in an orange hue. “And why the hell not?” Jess replies, her back resting against the bed’s headrest. Rolling her eyes, Heather peers away from the window, eyes settling upon the woman with the twisted sense of humour. “Because this is serious shit” Heather answers, trying not to present herself as being frightened for Amy’s sake. “Do I have to go to school tomorrow?” Amy interrupts, her innocence putting the hostility at ease. “I don’t think that’s gonna-” Heather begins to reply, stopping at Jess' intrusion, “no honey, I’m happy to let you call in sick” her mother responds, passing a glance back in Heather’s direction. Though silent at first, Amy thinks about her mother’s answer before looking back to Heather. “Does that mean I can stay home, Heather?” Amy asks again, the satisfaction Jess had worn on her face immediately fading, the inquiry almost too much for Heather to hold back a laugh from. “Amy, why don’t you go play in the next room over, okay?” Jess responds, not once removing her eyes from the woman across the room from her, “Mommy and Heather need to have a talk.” Compelled to refuse, Amy remains silent, looking for Heather’s response rather than asking for it. “Go ahead, honey” Heather reassures, watching the girl tap her feet along the wooden floor, and entering the abyss-like hallway that lies beyond the bedroom. “What the hell was that?” Jess begins, climbing off her bed to approach Heather, an angry gleam in her eyes. “What do you think it was, Jess?” Heather replies, stepping out onto the balcony with the invitation offered for Jess to do the same. “Did I not make it clear the other day? I’m Amy’s mother!” Jess exclaims, her outburst stalling as Heather interrupts, the sky lighting with fires between them. “Give me a fucking break, Jess- you’re her mother in name only” Heather cuts back, bringing an immediate silence upon the woman, who stares at Heather in shock. “Sure, you gave birth to her- and sure! She’s got your last name! Well, technically it’s John’s last name- but whatever! Sure, that’s all you!” Heather shouts, closing in the remaining distance Jess had yet to occupy, “but as far as actually being there for her, and being there to teach her how to live in this world?- that’s me.” Her nostrils flaring, Jess stares into Heather’s eyes, her left hand beginning to twitch. “You know what, while I’m at it- I fuckin’ hate this way that you look at me- like I’m trying to replace you or something-” Heather furthers, her own right hand beginning to hover over her rear pocket. “You know you’re trying to replace me” Jess grunts, her shaky hand beginning to hover closer toward her pocket, “the way you treat her, and talk to her, and teach her things- you’re trying to replace me and you know it.” Her expression changing, Heather looks at Jess through apologetic eyes, her head shaking as her scrunched face eases. “Oh, honey- you’ve lost your mind” Heather replies condescendingly, her hand fully tucked into her back pocket, “if all that’s true, then I already did.” The response stunning her, all thoughts leave Jess’ mind, her eyes widening at Heather’s boldness, and her trembling hand steadying in a sudden moment of relief. The apologetic look on her face turning to confusion, Heather watches Jess back away without defence, the woman returning to the home’s depths without further argument. Anticipating further escalation, Heather finds herself at a loss for words, the switchblade she’d wrapped her fingers around left to fall back into her pocket. | “Alicia!” Salem cries out, throwing herself down the hill their home resides at the bottom of, watching as her pregnant friend crawls through the cellar doors beneath the grass’ surface. “I’m fine! Go get Emilio!” the woman exclaims, pulling herself onto the lawn whilst having yet to inspect the home’s damage for herself. “Wh- where!?” Salem confusedly responds, the question prompting Alicia to turn her head around. Through wide eyes, Alicia gawks at the front of their townhouse, its face baron, stripped of anything more than the gaping wound outlined by charred wood. “What the fuck happened in there!?” Salem wonders aloud, her fingers still wrapped around the mallet’s handle. Her concerns lying elsewhere, Alicia leaves the question unanswered, instead shouting aloud in horror. “Emilio!” Alicia screams, discarding her spear in favour of advancing upon the home, her only entrance being the wound that had taken both women by such surprise. “Em!” Alicia continues to blurt, the living room they’d occupied only a short time prior almost unrecognisable from its former state. “Where’d you last see him?” Salem shouts, following the woman closely, each pile of wreckage that’s strewn through the building makes the terrain rougher to travel. “Just past the basement door!” Alicia shouts, struggling to push past the last heaps of rubble between her and the man they search for. “Yeah- yeah, I’m here!” Emilio exclaims, his back leant over an overturned set of drawers, the uncomfortable position he lies within made bearable by the certainty of Alicia’s safety. “Oh, thank-fucking-god!” Alicia replies, the knot built in her stomach quickly unravelling. “Are you alright?” Emilio asks with a whimper, the woman refusing to answer without her arms wrapped around the man’s neck. “I’m fine- it’s you that has no reason to be” Alicia mutters, laying by her friend’s side as Salem catches up, the uncomfortable wreckage they lay beneath made less unwelcoming with such friendly faces. “Wanna clue us in on why our house isn’t- well, a house anymore?” Salem inquiries, taking a seat near Emilio’s feet. “I think it was a grenade- but I didn’t get a good look at it obviously” Emilio replies, his left hand pressed against his side, “it sure got a good look at me, though.” Pulling his hand away from the wound, Emilio presents a bloodstain on his shirt to his friends, a smile still worn on his face. “Of all the places to get shot, this is probably one I prefer” Emilio clarifies, able to let out a brief laugh without pain, “it was an in-and-out kind of thing- I’ll be fine with a little cleanup.” “Well, then let’s get you to a hospital!” Salem quickly responds, both Alicia’s concerns and her own quashed with Emilio’s light-hearted banter. “Seriously, I’ll be fine. It stings, but if that’s the worst of it, I can manage” Emilio promises, patting Alicia’s leg and giving Salem’s shin a tap with the head of his boot, “though, I think we’re gonna need new living conditions.” With her head hung, Alicia tries to settle herself from the rush of emotions the night has brought on, both gunfire and explosions still roaring in the distance. “Chin up, buttercup” Emilio jokes, interfering with her disappointed self-reflection by lifting her chin with his knuckle, “we’ve gotten over worse, haven’t we?” Putting her own worries aside, Alicia gives Emilio a smile, the reassuring nod she adds only helping put the troublesome times in the past, at least, that’s what it appears to do at first. The quiet air only allowing the chaotic events outside to feel louder, Emilio opens his mouth to speak, though is unable to find the words. “What is it?” Salem whispers, her elbows pressing into her knees whilst she sits forward, clearing the air for Emilio to air his thoughts. Taking in a deep breath, Emilio’s lips pucker, his eyes wandering back to the woman his words had been given freedom by. With a push, Emilio sits himself up the remainder of the way, his eyes kept on Salem with a disheartened look. “The walls couldn’t do it either, huh?” Emilio solemnly wonders, their conversation from the night prior recalled, “this is the world we live in- no matter where we go- isn’t it?” With her fingers locked, Salem frowns at the man, only able to offer a slow, poignant nod. Accepting the answer, Emilio changes his face’s direction, his eyes travelling to the friend he can only hope carries the next generation’s promise within her womb. “I’m afraid of the man I was turning into before Cumberland. I’m afraid of what I would have been like if Jade hadn’t found us” Emilio whispers, placing his hand upon Alicia’s arm, “I don’t wanna be that man again.” Not able to say much, Alicia takes her free hand to Emilio’s head, resting it on the side of his face, and only able to offer her sincere beliefs. “You won’t” the woman replies, letting her hand fall back upon the palm Emilio rests on her wrist, giving Salem the nod to push forward. “Let’s get you to the hospital, big guy” Salem grunts, aiding Alicia in helping the man up, their journey taking them back into the street, the hill they climb holding their latest chapter at its base. In the distance, gunfire continues to echo through the night’s sky, their past intermingling with their present, only leaving what resides of the world’s future in question. “Keep your head on a swivel” Emilio warns, returning Alicia’s firearm to its holster as they enter the night, every ounce of chaos that stands before them nothing in comparison to what they’ve seen, only worthy of being left behind in the world it belongs to. == Rise ==
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With his eyes closed, Jack listens to water crash onto the port he stands upon, the soft wind gusts caressing the same side of his face that bakes in the sun of an early July summer. The hairs on Franklin’s arm grazing him as he sways from side to side, Jack feels weight remove itself from his chest, freeing him to breathe calmly, at peace with the world he’s found himself in.
The tip of his thumb sliding over the ring on his finger, Jack’s eyelids present a dark shade of red, blood vessels targeted by the incredible light above. Moments of peace growing more difficult to come by as each day passes, Jack lets himself escape the world for the moment, retreating to a quiet place untouched by the earth’s worst. Every breath that leaves his lungs somehow quieter than the last, Jack’s swaying ceases, his hands hanging freely by his sides as his hair gently takes with the direction of the wind. As his feet press into the worn out boots he’s laced tightly, Jack’s head tilts toward the heavens, allowing the breeze to run up the underside of his chin. The world remains blocked by his eyelids, their dark red glow more closely resembling anger than his true inner peace. Before long, the red tint presented to shield his world of escape is dashed, replaced with the lonely, dark emptiness that only serves as his call to return home. His figure, along with the figures of those he stands beside, occupies the port just a few feet behind Rocky, their view of the deep, blue sky and remarkable sun now hidden behind Nova Scotia’s largest freighter, it’s starboard towering over Rockford’s leader, who symbolically stands ahead of his citizens- alone. Chains shrieking loudly as the anchors descend from the ship, Rocky remains stood in his place, already having set too many things into motion to turn back. “Be ready for a gunfight” Nessie whispers, her hand resting on the firearm she’s kept on her side as she glances over her shoulder, hundreds of armed soldiers ready to defend Rocky’s settlement with fury, “we can’t know how well they’ll handle this- either of them.” Keeping to himself, Jack watches a rope ladder descend from the ship’s bow, his face devoid of emotion, his mind refusing to be entangled in the impending discussion unless provoked. Within seconds, one man begins to climb over the ship’s ledge, his feet pressing into the unsteady rungs he prepares to descend. “We’re not the only ones that planned for this” Franklin murmurs, peering toward the boat’s gunwale, where hundreds of soldiers point barrels toward the ground. Still kept to a hush, Jack joins Franklin in his view, recognising the threat that lingers without concerning himself over it. “He planned for that, didn’t he?” Clint replies, leaving Jack as the only survivor not to partake in the discussion. “Sure, but he’s got twenty snipers on the cranes at most” Nessie ripostes, her anxiety beginning to rise as the confrontation nears, “not much separates us from having to fire uphill.” “We’re gonna be fine as long as Rocky doesn’t fuck this up” Franklin remarks, watching the climber make his final few steps toward the ground, “and if he does, we’ll step in.” His hands wiped against his rubber overalls, the unassuming man from Nova Scotia approaches Rocky, a confused look on his face as his eyes pan across Rockford’s armed militia. “What’s the point in all of this, Rocky?” the man wonders aloud, his hand extended toward the gathered populous. “The port’s closed, Cody. Nova Scotia’s business will not be tolerated here” Rocky responds, a comment that prompts Cody to hang his head. “No, I got that part. They let me know that before I set sail- I mean why?” Cody responds, the exhaustion he’s consumed by clear in his retort, “what is this supposed to change?” “It’s gonna get us our split of the pie” Rocky replies, continuing in spite of Cody’s hanging head, “it’s getting us what’s fair. I’m not talking about Nova Scotia’s definition of fair, I’m talking about fair-fair.” With one hand on his hip, the other wiping the sweat from his brow, Cody looks up to the man, his head shaking in disapproval. “It’s not, Rocky” Cody ripostes, his chin jutting in the direction of the ship’s armed staff, “it’ll get you killed and replaced by whoever gives the order.” “I’m dead either way, Cody- it doesn’t seem like Nova Scotia realises that yet” Rocky remarks, openly acknowledging the situation he’s tied to, “I don’t get a fair split, it won’t be long before these folks revolt. I don’t let you unload your shipments here, it won’t be long before Nova Scotia kills me. If I’m dead either way, I might as well take the option I’ve got the most to gain from.” Holding his chin high, Cody’s disappointment doesn’t wane, the droplets of sweat that run down his face clear despite the shadow his own ship casts over his body. “Alright, what do you want me to do?” Cody responds, Rocky’s reasoning making it obvious that no amount of persuasion can be depended upon, “the guys on board have orders to kill if you’re gonna keep standing here. Either you’re gonna make way for them and maybe live another day, or you’re gonna become a pincushion.” “I want a word with your superior” Rocky replies, a leather vest worn over a blue button-up, “kill me all you want, but I wish you luck in finding someone willing to oversee this camp.” With a sigh, Cody turns away from Rocky and returns to his vessel, though his path does not take him toward the rope ladder. “Rocky, you’re not going to get your way” Cody calls back, reaching the port’s edge before turning around, “this whole scene is pointless, and you’re using your life to let it play.” Shifting his head to the left, Rocky shrugs his shoulders and turns away, preferring not to see the death that awaits him in the instance that it is to come. Bemused, Cody walks back to Rocky, remaining persistent in his efforts to change the man’s mind. “How many times do I have to tell you, Rocky!?” Cody shouts, both hands thrown out at his sides, “give it a rest! This protest- or whatever it is- isn’t worth spilling your blood over!” Not only unphased, but slightly more vindicated than he was before, Rocky turns to look the man in his eyes, suspicious of Cody’s motivations. “We’re getting nowhere if you’re not going to answer me” Cody reiterates, watching Rocky’s face only continue to lighten, as if aware of something Cody has yet to become privy to. “We’re not going anywhere to begin with, Cody- this isn’t negotiable” Rocky ripostes, a smile beginning to spread across his face. “You know what, I’m starting to think you already knew that” Rocky furthers, stepping away from his spot to creep closer to Cody, “and, much like short-changing us under the guise of poor production, I think these threats, and those soldiers on your boat, and all of this talk about tempting fate are all the same- just for show.” His head pulling back, Cody stares into Rocky’s eyes, offence taken from the man’s declaration. “Rocky, this isn’t a joke” Cody remarks, continuing to stand firmly by his statement, “for fuck’s sake, I’m trying to keep you from getting yourself killed! Get your head out of your ass and smarten up damnit!” Having made peace with whichever outcome prevails, Rocky folds his hands by his lap boldly, swaying his head from one side to another, the residents of his settlement forced only to watch. “Any of you ever play poker?” Franklin whispers, leaving the question to linger. “Every other Saturday at the warehouse” Jack responds, finally placing his hat in the metaphorical ring the conversation has opened, “are you seeing what I’m seeing?” At the same time, the pair turn to look each other in the eyes, sharing the same thought as if their minds were interconnected. “He’s gonna call their bluff” Jack and Franklin reply, quickly taking their attention back to the scene unfolding before them. Stepping forward in effort to shorten the distance between them, Rocky’s hands remain folded by his lap, his voice dropping to the point where only Cody can hear him. “Give them the signal” Rocky whispers, tipping his head as if it were his cap before retreating, stepping back into the guards’ line of fire with his arms out, daring them to initiate conflict. “Rocky-” Cody steps forward to say, the open hand Rocky presents to him cutting short the intended exchange. “I’ve made my peace, Cody. There’s no going back as far as I’m concerned” Rocky replies, waiting with a literal pair of open arms, “give them the signal or give Nova Scotia a ring.” His lips pressed together, Cody stands in front of Rocky, looking him in the eyes without a response or retort. Stood above, the guards keep their aim upon not only Rocky, but any resident they can spot a weapon on, aware of the threat snipers pose to them. His decision made, Rocky remains affirmed, confident in the decision he’s made despite the uncertainty that lies ahead, his eyes holding steady upon his fate’s decider. Following Nessie’s lead, Jack, Franklin and Clint hover their hands over the weapons they’ve hidden by their hips, the outcome that lies ahead having been planned for in full. With the wipe of his hand over his full head of hair, Cody continues staring, his expression showing the bluff he’s failed to hide. “She’s not going to take this lightly” Cody ripostes in defeat, turning away to return to the ship, his second attempt now directing him to the ladder he’d initially climbed down. The threat alleviated for now, Rocky passes a look toward the group that stands behind him, able to find trust in their motives more than those of the citizens that back him. Slowly dropping his hand from the weapon on his hip, Jack sets the example for the rest of his group to follow, their worries quashed for the moment as further unpredictability awaits. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = “You know we have a dishwasher, right?” Heather jokes, watching Jess handwash the ceramic plates that have gathered in the sink upon entering the kitchen. “You’re out of detergent” Jess remarks coldly, pressing her knuckles into the soft side of a scouring pad, “and I’m getting tired of looking at them.” Put off by the tone in Jess’ voice, Heather lets the conversation end with Jess’ reply, her attention needed from a stack of envelopes on the kitchen table. Scrunching her face at the sound of the chair legs Heather drags across the kitchen’s tiled floor, Jess continues with her business, trying hard not to pay the woman any mind. For a few minutes, Jess’ attempts work well, so focused on her duties to the sink that she begins to forget Heather is even present. “Amy wanted to know if you’d like to come out to dinner with us tonight. I told her I’d ask you just before she got on the bus” Heather remarks, her voice beginning to drag on Jess much like the chair had upon the floor. “Thanks for letting me know” Jess responds, again lacking the empathy Heather holds, which does not go unnoticed. “So- is that a ‘yes’?” Heather soon replies, not deriving much clarity from the woman’s response, “it’s my treat.” Propping the last dish into the dishwasher’s rack to dry, Jess turns her attention upon the woman. “Why does it need to be ‘your treat’?” Jess inquires, taking the woman’s statement for more than it was. “Because I came up with the idea” Heather ripostes, confused both by the attitude she’s been given and the reason behind Jess’ inquiry, “if I’m inviting you, it’s only reasonable that I pay the bill.” Nodding her head, Jess exits the room, still not offering Heather a direct answer. Not needing much to sense the hostility shown, Heather sets her mail down and follows after Jess, beginning to worry the tension between them has become a genuine issue not worth ignoring. “Is something wrong?” Heather calls out, following Jess as she steps through the living room on her way to the second level. “Yeah, there is” Jess remarks, offering no further answer to Heather’s dismay. “Alright, care to tell me what it is?” Heather inquires, reaching the staircase before Jess turns to answer. “You’re not Amy’s mother, and I think you should stop trying to be” Jess quickly remarks, leaning on the staircase’s bannister as she looks for the change in Heather’s expression. “W-?” Heather grumbles, hard for words at the accusation levied against her. “Don’t get me wrong, I appreciate you looking after her with what happened to John, and how we all got split up- all of it” Jess clarifies, her annoyance present despite her understanding, “but you’re not her mother- I am.” “I never argued otherwise” Heather responds, a retort Jess refuses to deny as she resumes her climb. “You don’t need to, it’s not what you’re saying that says otherwise- it’s what you’re doing” Jess replies, aware that Heather is tailing her. “What is it that I’m doing?” Heather ripostes, unable to look past the flaws in the woman’s assertions, “I’m not doing anything now that I haven’t done since the New World Order.” Stepping into her bedroom, Jess throws her damp, grey t-shirt into a bin near the corner of the room, continuing the conversation in a black bra as she retrieves a new shirt. “I don’t know what you’re referring to by that” Jess remarks, looking into a random drawer as Heather responds. “I’ve been looking after her ever since the New World Order!” Heather proclaims, “whenever you or John were busy, it was always either Cam and I or Emilio and Bill that looked after her. This is more of the same!” “No, it’s not” Jess is quick to counter, throwing a loose purple shirt over her head as she steps past Heather, moving onto the next task, “things are different now.” Left with as much confusion as she had before, Heather follows Jess through the second-level hall. “You’re not making any sense! You’re saying these things and then giving no follow-up” Heather continues, the hall growing darker the further they walk as sunlight becomes more difficult to spot. “Because I don’t know how else to say it!” Jess cuts back, stepping into the room at the end of the hall, its interior largely dimmed by the blackout curtains adorning the entrance to the patio. “You’re walking her to the bus for school, you’re teaching her how to make fires, and prune trees, and skin deer- or something like that” Jess vents, opening the doors to the outside platform as light engulfs the bedroom, “you’re doing everything I should be doing.” Unravelling a hose from the twist ties that hold it to the patio’s bannister, Jess dips the nozzle into the can and presses her palm against the rear trigger. “You’re mad at me for teaching your daughter things because you didn’t?” Heather replies, somewhat taken aback by the less ambiguous reasoning, “in what world is that my fault?” “In this world- the one where I’m Amy’s mother, and you’re not” Jess ripostes, unwavering in her need to clarify that point, much to Heather’s chagrin. Watching Jess prepare the watering can for the flowers, Heather lets the woman’s complaints simmer, the selfishness and lack of accountability resting poorly within the bounds of her conscience. Tensions already high, Heather matches the spite and contempt Jess holds for her, battling fire with flames of equal intensity. “You know what, I don’t think I’m the person you should be blaming for that” Heather remarks, Jess’ attention pulled from the hanging basket of tulips momentarily, “after all, it wasn’t me that neglected Amy by wasting years of my life trying to tie down a man that was never meant for fatherhood in the first place.” Her spite quickly turning into malevolence, Jess’ hand stops swaying from one end of the flower patch to the other, the water now trickling out upon one lone, sad flower farther away than the others. “Maybe you should spend less time blaming me for helping your kid learn how to make it in life, and start holding yourself accountable” Heather persists, watching Jess lower the watering can to the deck’s wooden platform, “you don’t get to blame me for your own oversight.” Her aggravation having fully converted into anger, Jess closes in on Heather, her finger raised in the woman’s direction. “Don’t say another word” Jess responds, feeling her body tremble with an anger she’s unsure of her ability to control. “Why not? Is it because you want to avoid responsibility, or you don’t want to hear the truth?” Heather rebuttals, not taking Jess’ hints with their intended value, “if you feel left out, that’s your own way of admitting to yourself that you fucked up.” “I mean it, Heather- not another word” Jess ripostes, her nose within inches of Heather’s face, the vigour she holds clearing her mind of any care for the consequences of what is to occur. Whilst not amused by the woman’s warning, Heather takes notice of her uninterest in what she has to say, present-minded enough to see that any further comment will only be in request of an altercation. Following directions as asked, Heather shakes her head and retreats into the home, shrouded in the darkness as she re-enters the sunlight-deprived hall. Her heavy breathing beginning to settle, Jess slides her free hand from her left pocket, surrendering the switchblade she’d wrapped her fingers around moments prior. As her mind races, Jess reaches for the watering can and moves onto the next pot, her eyes rarely leaving the patio doors. | “It should be opening back up soon” Grace mutters, lifting a cappuccino to her lips as her statement is left unresponded to. “Lauren, did you hear me?” Grace queries, watching her friend salt a philly cheese steak intently. “No, I was listening to the salt shaker” Lauren replies, speaking through a humorous tone despite her answer being genuine. “I said the incinerator should be opening back up soon” Grace responds, sliding a knife through the centre of a cooked sausage, “Jade told me they’d be finished reworking the grid by the end of next week.” Nodding, Lauren takes the first half of her sandwich to her lips, letting Grace continue to speak as she indulges in her meal. “I know it’s not great work, but personally- I’m glad we’re going back to it” Grace admits, “I think being together this long has been hard for Donnie and I.” Her eyebrows narrowing, Lauren chews her sandwich to completion before opening her mouth to respond, her hand held over her lips as she does. “What makes you say that?” Lauren remarks, reaching for the cup of black coffee beside her. “I just feel like the two of us have grown distant” Grace ripostes, sinking her teeth into a chunk of waffle at the end of her fork, “maybe not being around each other all day will be good for us.” With a sigh, Lauren sets her sandwich down, another swig from her coffee helping her put away the bite of her meal quicker. “You think that’s why the two of you have been distant?” Lauren replies, hiding the pessimistic expression she frequently lets slip. “I mean, why not?” Grace responds, her hand guided toward a nearby bottle of maple syrup, “the distance started when I stopped working. If I’m being honest, I wouldn’t want to be around myself all day either.” Letting the woman form her own beliefs, Lauren places her focus back on the meal that awaits her, hoping to avoid the topic for as long as it takes her to finish. “Why?” Grace follows, effortlessly crushing Lauren’s loudest hope. “I was just asking” Lauren remarks, trying to correct the course toward something else. “I know, but you asked it in a weird way” Grace responds, too familiar with Lauren to not notice the woman’s pessimistic mannerisms, “and you’re you, so there’s that.” Rolling her eyes, Lauren puts the sandwich down and begins wiping her hands. “I just don’t think it’s usually as simple as you’d like it to be with Donnie” Lauren ripostes, already spotting the dislike Grace begins showing toward her view, “nothing about him really screams ‘I’m the long-term, committed relationship’ type.” “Well, maybe that’s not the way he seems to you- but I’d like to think I know him better than that” Grace returns, the scrunched face Lauren reacts with suggesting the pessimistic expression has won. “You’d like to think that, but I think the more you know someone, the more invested you are in maintaining whatever view you’ve got of them- no matter how much they’ve changed since” Lauren divulges, “Donnie’s always just struck me as a guy that plays fast and loose.” Her head shaking, Grace disregards the opinion, diving back into her meal whilst reluctant to let the dialogue continue. “Let’s just eat our food” Grace grumbles, slicing another chunk of waffle onto her fork, “forget I asked.” | Touching back upon ground, Cody’s eyes take to Rocky, who remains at the forefront of his militia, ready to welcome whatever fate chooses to come upon him. Letting out a sigh, Cody marches back to the same confrontation he’d begun the day with, hoping for its conclusion now that the midday sun has turned into the evening-onsetting sunset. “Humour me, if you will. Was there actually a signal to open fire, or was that for show, too?” Rocky taunts, watching the amused grin stretch across Cody’s face. “The signal wasn’t for you, it was for whoever stood with you” Cody replies, lifting his shirt to reveal a handgun on his waist, “in interest of not getting too vulgar, I’ll just say that you were the signal- if you know what I mean.” “I don’t know if there’s a way for you to make it any clearer” Rocky jokes, his hands finding comfort crossed against his chest, “so, what’s the ruling?” The time for jokes having passed, Cody’s amused expression turns stoic, a weird look worn on his face from his inability to hide the apologetic eyes he still holds. “You know they’re too stubborn to give into any demands that aren’t given out by them” Cody responds, his head shaking as he concludes, “you’re out.” His eyes beginning to squint, Rocky latches onto the man’s response, confused by the simplicity it was offered with. “We’re out?” Rocky remarks, hoping for elaboration, “what do you mean by that?” Allowing the question to be asked, Cody begins to suck on his bottom lip, displeased with having to reply. “You’re no longer of use to Nova Scotia” Cody soberly ripostes, removing the firearm from his side and taking aim between Rocky’s eyes, “you’re out.” The turn catching him by surprise, Rocky is left standing at gunpoint, his eyes closing at the sound of gunfire, though none of it is the cause of the weapon in his face. “Take cover!” a guard exclaims, offering Rocky only enough time to watch Cody collapse, the small bullet hole beneath his twitching eye offering enough information to make a thorough assumption. “Get to the trucks!” Jack exclaims, pushing Nessie, who’s gun smokes from Cody’s fatal gunshot, toward Franklin and Clint. “Where are you going!?” Nessie shouts back, feeling Jack’s departure as his hands leave her shoulders. “To save our fucking deal!” Jack growls, bracing for the bullets that fire from above in an effort to reach Rocky, who remains a sitting duck without his attention. Rockford’s plan working perfectly, the gunmen hiding in their container cranes fire rockets at Nova Scotia’s fleet, engulfing those aboard the vessel in horrifying flames. “Stop standing around, motherfucker! We’ve gotta get out of here!” Jack exclaims, pulling Rocky away from the murder scene by the neck, their destination already determined. “Jack!” Franklin shouts, peering through the dirt clouds from the passenger seat of an eighteen wheeler, barely able to make the man’s outline. “Are Clint and Nessie with you!?” Jack shouts through the dust, pushing Rocky forward as the man breaks through the haze. “They’re in the carrier!” Franklin exclaims, moving aside to let Jack into the vehicle’s cabin as Rocky pulls himself into the driver’s seat. “Are you good to drive?” Jack shouts in a frenzy, satisfied with the nod that Rocky musters enough will to give, “then we’re set- let’s go!” Throwing the trailer into drive, Rocky presses his foot upon the gas and leads the convoy, his big-rig the first in a line of twenty, various other trucks and vans following the lead of their larger counterparts. “Alright, what’s our fucking plan now!?” Jack shouts, sharing a look at Rocky as they await an answer, the ‘Welcome to Rockford’ sign passing in their rear-view mirror as they depart. “We go to the next settlement over, that’s the new plan” Rocky replies, his answer still leaving much to be desired. “Alright, we get to the next settlement over and then what?” Franklin ripostes, his metal cap pressed against the dashboard for support his seatbelt fails to offer. “I’m not sure yet, but we’ve got plenty of time to figure that out” Rocky replies, pulling a dart from the pack in his vest pocket and striking it alight with the truck’s own lighter. Left with no better option, Jack and Franklin sink into their seats, readying themselves for the most uncertain drive they’ve ever been left to take part in. == Rise == “I never thought I’d hear sounds like these again” Jess murmurs, a finger guiding the curtain from her bedroom window, her eyes watching Heather tend to the lawn from atop her mower’s throne. “Why not?” Amy replies, stood on the opposite side of the queen-sized bed from Jess, the kid-sized t-shirt in her hand folded elegantly and with care.
“Well, it just didn’t seem possible” Jess ripostes, allowing the curtain to slide off the side of her digit, its silky fabric back to covering the window, “everything seemed too broken to get better.” Her eyes falling, Amy lets the shirt in her hand join a pile of others near the bed’s edge, only able to muster the barest memories of the apocalypse’s early days. “Were there always bad people?” Amy finally inquires, the question not of the selections Jess had presumed she’d be forced to answer. “Wh- what do you mean?” Jess responds, intrigued at the perspective of discovering her own daughter’s definition of the concept. “When you left me with Heather and Cam, I remember you telling me that you were leaving to stop bad people from doing bad stuff” Amy remarks, her eyes focused on the next shirt she presses against her chest to fold. “Oh- you’re talking about Sheol” Jess replies, a slight relief coming over her, “uh, there weren’t always those kinds of bad people. But, well- yes, there have always been bad people.” Placing the next shirt upon the nearby pile, Amy’s head pokes up as she reaches for the next piece of laundry to prepare for storage. “What’s the difference?” Amy inquires, a pink top with a purple butterfly in its centre taken into her hand. “Well, for a start, there used to be rules that kept things like what happened in Sheol from happening” Jess responds, taking a seat on her own side of the bed, “-rules that would have punished them for what they did so we wouldn’t have to.” Moving onto a grey top, Amy continues to fold her clothes as Jess talks, her mother beginning to lose track of the chore that had originally brought them to the room their conversation takes place in. “Things got really messy when everything changed. There weren’t people around to make sure those rules were followed” Jess begins to conclude, taking a look toward her daughter, “so we punished them.” Nearing the end of her laundry pile, Amy takes a pause, looking off at the corner of the room whilst her mother remains silent, curious to the thoughts wandering inside the young girl’s head. “What’s wrong?” Jess inquires, assuming from the near-minute Amy spends thinking that her mother’s explanation has brought upon a profound confusion. “So the people in that town did bad things because there weren’t people to stop them anymore?” Amy reflects, her mother’s bobbing head allowing her to make her own conclusion, “so, doesn’t that mean they were always like that?” Attempting to speak, Jess finds herself silenced by her own consideration, latching onto the presumption her daughter has made for the accuracy it holds. “What makes you say that?” Jess remarks, the impressive discovery somewhat blurring the route Amy took to reach it. “You said there were rules to keep them from doing bad things. So, the bad started when the rules stopped” Amy responds, “that means they were always bad, but the rules stopped them from being bad.” Her mouth agape, Jess stares at her daughter with widened eyes, her underestimation of Amy’s intellect dawning the sensation of utter shock. “Y- Yes, I- I guess you’re right” Jess finally regains her presence of mind long enough to reply, “how did you figure that out?” Returning to her chores, Amy gives her mother a shrug, now taking a pair of jeans into her hands. “I dunno” Amy replies, digesting the question as if it were a maths problem, “Heather said that, when someone answers a question, I should pull it apart to see if the little pieces make sense.” Her pleased reaction starting to subside, Jess feels a disappointment roll over just as relief had minutes prior. “Heather taught you to do that?” Jess ripostes, watching Amy bob her head with a smile, pleased to give credit where it’s due. Her pride wiped away in favour of defeat, Jess remains sat on her bedside as Amy prepares to return her pile to the drawers of her own bedroom. “It sounds like Heather taught you a lot” Jess remarks, doing well to hide the feeling of having been left behind in her daughter’s life, almost able to visualise the distance created in just the last few months. Satisfied with her work, Amy places her hands at the top and bottom of her pile and turns for the door. “I’m gonna help Heather with the trees” Amy remarks, shuffling toward the door as her mother’s voice beckons her back. “Hey, honey!” Jess calls out, a sudden worry over the impending answer to her own question arriving the moment Amy turns to look back at her, “can I ask you a question?” With a nod, Amy presses her shoulder against the wall and waits for her opportunity to answer, unable to decipher the issue lingering in the back of her mother’s mind. “Do you-” Jess begins, stopping herself as the anxious curl in her stomach begins to build, almost tempting her not to ask the question, though her relentlessness pushes through what stands in her way, convincing her otherwise, “do you love me?” With a smile, Amy nods her head, her shoulders shrugging as she does. “You’re my mom” Amy responds, almost glad the question is so easy to answer, “I have to!” The moment her daughter’s rejoinder is spoken, the curl in Jess’ stomach punches at her heart, the pain that overtakes her poorly hidden by a smile that Amy struggles to discern from one of authenticity. Tears beginning to rest upon her eyelid, Jess’ head bobs, allowing her daughter to return to her room before the emotion consumes her. As if she were hollow, Jess listens to her daughter’s answer on repeat, the final three words bouncing from one side of her head to the next with no end. Her core withering with each listen, Jess wipes the tear from her face and stares back to the window, curtain still draped before the midday sun. With a deep, aching sigh, Jess climbs off her firm mattress, her index finger parting the curtains once more. With a glare, Jess looks past the sunlight that shines brightly in her eyes, her only focus placed upon the woman atop the tractor lawnmower. Her convulsing irritation converted into indelible scorn, Jess leaves her eyes upon Heather while her expression turns into bitterness, an incredible dislike taken to the woman beyond the panes of glass. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = “I don’t want to go to their party” Annie remarks, followed by Emilio as she makes her way to the sofa, holding a face stricken with exhaustion, her voice emptied of its common warmth. “I know that, I’m just forwarding the offer” Emilio quickly responds, stood over the same couch the woman begins to sink into. “And I’m declining it” Annie retorts, lifting a hand towel over her face as her head comes to a rest atop one of the pillows, “I hope you enjoy yourself.” Her legs stretching down the sofa’s length, Annie rests her hands on top of her stomach and stops responding, holding out hope that the conversation will end as easily as it had begun. “Do you need anything from me?” Emilio inquires, letting a few seconds pass before raising the question, “I’m here for whatever you need.” “If you can’t bring my husband back from the dead, then I don’t need anything” Annie replies, her frail voice growing weaker with every attempt to speak. Getting no further than he had upon arrival, Emilio nods his head and prepares to turn away, little left to offer now that his best suggestions have been turned away. Concealing his sigh, Emilio starts to leave the room, his hand raising to take the front door’s knob into his grasp, only for a sudden thought to cross his mind. Drawn back to the home’s lone resident, Emilio skips to the question with no lead up, too invested in the answer to care about the manner in which the question is asked. “Do you blame me for what happened to Ryan?” the man blurts out, left to stare at Annie for the seconds that follow as she silently removes the towel from over her face. “What?” Annie calmly ripostes, pressing her elbows into the cushions to prop herself up, “why would I think that?” “Because I was on the trip with him” Emilio responds, hands restlessly hanging by his sides, “I don’t know if, maybe somewhere deep inside, you blame me for not doing enough to keep him safe.” Flummoxed by the suggestion, Annie pushes her back against the seat’s armrest, her arms wrapping around her bunched-up legs. “Ryan didn’t need a chaperon” Annie remarks, hindsight beginning to make her wish he had, “he shouldn’t have even been out there in the first place.” Silent, Emilio’s head falls, not needed to find a response as Annie raises her own question toward him. “Do you blame yourself?” Annie wonders aloud, watching the man’s eyes lift back toward her. “I think I should have done more” Emilio replies, whilst not overwhelmed by the grief of a life being lost, is clearly touched by the effects such loss has had on the woman before him. “We all should have” Annie ripostes, not letting the pain cloud her better judgement, “I shouldn’t have let him go out on the hunts in the first place. If you don’t blame yourself, I can’t blame myself either.” His lips pressing together, Emilio remains silent, staring into Annie’s eyes whilst he answers with a nod, only able to accept what he’s being told. | The hallway he sits within lit rather poorly by the candles it’s lined with, Clint waits patiently for his name, amongst others, to be beckoned for. His right foot tapping against the old, wooden floor boards as seconds waste, Clint presses his back into the bench he waits upon, eyes not once moving from the door that separates him from the meeting that unfolds on the other side. “Can you quit that?” Jack wonders from a few feet away, his voice the first thing to pull Clint’s mind away from the door ahead. “What?” Clint responds, watching Jack’s finger aim toward his own foot. “Your tapping, will you stop please?” Jack repeats, feeling the uneasiness the rest of his group shares once Clint’s foot collides with the ground for the final time, “thank you.” Dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of black jeans, Jack folds his left leg over the right, arms coupled in his lap as he waits for their names to be called. “It takes them an awfully long time to finish their greetings, doesn’t it?” Franklin muses, holding the same posture as Jack, though containing more suspicion than he cares to let on. “Patience isn’t much of a politician’s thing, is it?” Nessie jokes, dressed just as Jack, her left leg protruding further into the walkway than her right. “I’ve met plenty of senators and state officials, and none of them ever took twenty minutes to shake my hand” Franklin remarks, letting his true thoughts peak from behind the contained veil he’s erected. “What exact suspicion are you trying to hint at us, Frank’?” Jack responds, eyes drifting to the largest of the four figures. “I don’t have one” Franklin replies, slowly redirecting his face to the man who’d asked the question, “but I suggest we don’t wait much longer.” Lifting his chin, Jack’s eyes take to the ceiling as Nessie calls for Franklin’s focus. “We already showed up, we can’t just walk out” Nessie ripostes, her correction coming from Jack just as the statement finishes falling from her lips. “He’s not implying we should leave” Jack explains, gracefully climbing from his place on the bench, his hand beginning to stretch out for the doorknob, “he’s implying we should do this.” Assuming control of the group’s motivations, Jack opens the door to the conference room and descends upon the nearby meeting. The first to follow Jack’s lead, Franklin propels himself off the bench, his hand pressing against the door’s exterior to hold it open for the siblings that soon follow closely behind. At the group’s forefront, Jack steps through the short corridor that sits between the hallway and the ongoing meeting, only a few seconds separating their unrequested entrance and inevitable appearance. “Good afternoon” Jack warmly delivers, his hand reaching for one of the chairs in the first unoccupied quartet his eye catches, “we’re sorry for the tardiness.” Along with a small number of armed militants, the allegiances of whom lie with either Rockford or the larger Nova Scotia territory, Rocky and a second woman sit on opposite sides of the table, a handful of other individuals occupying various chairs throughout the room. “Who are these people?” the unintroduced woman inquires, looking to Rocky with great curiosity. “We’re the people whose guns are being used in this negotiation” Franklin responds, shouldering the conversation’s lead on his group’s behalf, “and who are you?” His question deflected, Rocky pulls his eyes away from his opposition. “Franklin, I did not call for the four of you” Rocky explains, a statement that both Franklin and the unnamed woman take interest in, though for very different reasons. “We weren’t waiting around for your call. You invited us to this thing, we’ll show up if we feel we’re being neglected” Franklin remarks. “I’m sorry, you invited these people here?” the woman replies, attention taken back toward Rocky. “Because these meetings aren’t fair to us! We’re always left screwed over by the people up north!” Rocky ripostes, his left hand balled into a fist as it rests on the table, “I figured it’d be good to have some people in my corner.” “Let’s not overlook the fact that over seventy percent of the stockpile you’re negotiating with are our guns” Franklin responds, sitting with Jack and Nessie to his right, whilst Clint occupies the seat to his left. “How did the four of you take on an ammunition pile of over four hundred guns?” the woman questions, immediately suspicious of their claim. “You’ve seen the stockpile, you know it exists. How we got it is not of your concern” Franklin replies, standing from his seat with his hand outstretched, “Franklin Carter, and you?” With squinted eyes, the woman looks at Franklin’s hand before turning back toward Rocky, almost as if looking for a hint of how to respond. “If I’m going to say another word, I want to refer to you by name” Franklin reassures, keeping his hand extended. Her arms draped over the armrests of her chair, the woman stares into Franklin’s eyes for a few seconds longer, slowly taking her sights toward the man’s hand. Brushing off the whispered voices that attempt to sway her mind elsewhere, the woman stands from her seat, taking Franklin’s hand into hers. “Courtney Golden” the woman ripostes, breaking the handshake after only a few seconds, “now tell me where you got the fucking guns.” | Dressed in jean shorts and a purple tank top, Lauren walks alongside Angela as they enter a crowded mansion, music bouncing off the home’s marble walls, and the distant cheers of pleased guests flood each hallway not too dissimilar to the flow of lava through the doomed streets of Pompeii. “This is almost too much room for a Walmart, let alone one man” Angela murmurs in awe of the building’s size. “Is that jealousy I’m picking up on?” Lauren mocks, the colourful lights dancing over Angela’s all-white dress. “No. It’s my way of saying that, with a house like this, he better not be offering cheap beer” Angela answers, playfully patting Lauren on the shoulder, “I’m gonna sneak off for a few. I’ll catch up with you later.” Dashing off into the evening just as she had arrived, Angela leaves Lauren to the frat-like party happening in each of her directions. Beer pong tables set up throughout the main foyer and front yards, kegs prepared in nearly every corner, and furniture adorning every last spot of solid ground, the usually well-maintained home spends its night hosting a scene of anything but. “You’re a lot easier to spot out from a crowd than I thought” Grace remarks from afar, climbing over various people as she descends the nearest stairs. “Just look for the person that’s off on their own and surrounded by no one- that’ll be me” Lauren responds, openly accepting of her lack of interaction. “It was more the ‘fish out of water’ look and great set of tits that helped you stand out, but sure- what you said!” Grace quips, offering one of the two cups of booze in her hand. “What’s this?” Lauren inquires, peering into the unfamiliar cup the moment it reaches her fingertips. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s a mixture of many different things” Grace replies, already beginning to lead Lauren through the huddled mess of people gathered in drinking circles. “Donnie!” Grace exclaims, her top teeth biting into her bottom lip as she enters the kitchen. “Hey” Donnie ripostes in a somewhat callous way, his hand limply guiding itself over Grace’s shoulder. His cheek pecked by his girlfriend’s lips, Donnie offers his free hand toward Lauren, introducing himself. “I’m Donnie” the man greets, watching Lauren’s head casually pull back. “I know, we’ve met before” Lauren responds, resting her hand on the top of Donnie’s own before guiding it back toward his side. Without apology, Donnie nods with no other word to offer, Lauren’s explanation simply taken for fact. “Lauren works with me at the disposal plant, remember?” Grace corrects, “the barbecue? Back in March? I introduced you to her while you were flipping burgers?” Only able to muster up a shrug, Donnie turns back to his drink. “I don’t remember, sorry” Donnie continues, the hand he’d rested upon Grace’s shoulders now moving to his side, “if you’ll excuse me.” | Lowering himself into a beach chair, Emilio’s orange-tinted face pulls toward the sky, eyes staring directly into the twilight’s onset. “I prefer doing this when it’s not in the middle of a forest during winter” Salem confesses, lifting the rim of a cold beer to her lips. “I’ll second that” Alicia remarks, her eyes watching the flames in their firepit ascend. “It almost makes me nostalgic for the zombie days” Emilio adds, cargo shorts covering his thighs, a short sleeved button up worn over his chest. “It reminds me of those nights we spent on the road. Remember?- those very first few months?” Salem remarks, her eyes set upon Alicia, “I don’t even remember where we were going, but I know where we ended up every night- right back in a forest somewhere.” “We weren’t going anywhere” Alicia answers, her smile stretching from ear to ear, “you had a thing about not wanting to settle down somewhere. You just wanted to keep moving.” The memory returning to her, Salem’s head begins to bob. “Oh yeah, and we had that beast of a pickup!” the woman recalls, her head lowered back onto the chair she sits upon, “what ever happened to that thing?” “I’m sure Neville put it to use somehow. It’s probably off somewhere collecting dust” Alicia assumes, “probably the same fate as that truck John took out to Connecticut.” “Oh, I forgot about that truck!” Emilio blurts out, slapping his forehead in disbelief, “we were catching a ride into Sheol from somewhere. I think we just left the thing under a tarp in the woods.” His head shaking, Emilio grabs a cup of lemonade by the rim, a brief sip from it affording him another thought. “Is it not insane that we made it this far?” Emilio inquires, looking to the women he sits with, “that we can look back at when it started with good memories?” Dropping her head along with the smile, Salem’s hands wrap around both sides of the bottle, its glass casing reflecting the bright orange embers. “Who’s to say it’s not over?” Salem replies, raising her eyes toward Emilio and Alicia despite her head remaining hung, “we’ve seen it before- it doesn’t take much to turn people against their leader.” “These people are different” Emilio quickly corrects, not letting the idea do much more than linger on his mind, “these people don’t have the same instinct as the people that survived the start of the outbreak.” “That doesn’t matter” Salem quickly retorts, neither voice raising any louder than their common tone, “as long as the world is the way we left it, we’re a stone's-throw from being right back where we started.” His argument quashed, Emilio looks back to the fire, uninterested in outright bending his knee to Salem’s assessment. | Climbing out from her passenger’s seat, Jade’s feet tap along her parkway’s asphalt as she approaches the figure ahead. “You’re not gonna hold me at gunpoint again, right?” the woman inquires, her eyes set upon the front door to 18 Rawson, where Jess sits waiting for her presence, “I gave you Amy back, I’d appreciate you letting me inside.” Wiping her hands on her jean-clad thighs, Jess pushes herself off the step, both hands held by her head as she approaches Cumberland’s commander. “I’m only here to ask you for a favour” Jess responds, watching Jade’s face light up as she holds back a chuckle. “Was letting you invade my home and walk away without punishment not enough?” Jade remarks, shuffling her fingers into the pockets on her waist. “Was what you said about parents and Nova Scotia true?” Jess inquires, her approach stopping a few feet away from her once-prisoner, “the first people to go north were parents and their children?” Eyelids narrowing, Jade begins to make her assumptions of where this favour is leading. “The first people to Nova Scotia are expecting parents, the second people are parents with children” Jade answers, her left knee arching as her back leans. “What happens with Amy when the next trip is made?” Jess inquires, providing no further context than what her questions offer, “who’s going with her? Is it me, or is it Heather?” With an exhale, Jade peers off into the night, only able to answer with a shrug at first. “I don’t know what decision I’ll make yet” Jade replies, her dark hair flowing perfectly over her shoulders, “at the end of the day, whoever goes with her is up to me.” “I’m her mother- her real mother- I birthed her, I raised her, I kept her alive when the dead came back” Jess argues, jumping directly into her presence’s purpose, “that is my daughter.” Her lips coloured maroon, Jade’s pearly white smile shows itself to Jess, its origins stemming to genuine amusement. “You held my brother at gunpoint and threatened to kill me if I didn’t let you see her” Jade retorts, “pardon me if I have a hard time believing you’re what she really needs right now.” Attempting to continue with her night, Jade steps forward, her intentions set on returning home without confrontation, though Jess proves such hopes to be impossible. “I’m not what she needs right now? She doesn’t need her mother right now?” Jess ripostes, her hand pressing against Jade’s chest as she moves the woman back, “who the fuck are you to tell me what’s in my daughter’s best interest?” “I don’t know, how about the fact that you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for me? Is that a good start?” Jade counters, swiping Jess’ hand away from her chest, “or maybe it’s that Heather taught your own daughter so much more than you ever did.” Her face souring even more than it already had, Jess stares at Jade without a word, simply unable to think of a response. As Jade pushes past her, Jess’ eyes remain fixated on the spot Jade once stood upon, the anger she conceals guiding her hand to the grip protruding from her side. “Oh, and one more thing” Jade remarks, turning back to face Jess, who quickly pulls her hand away from the weapon, “if you ever touch me again, I’ll fit your teeth around the curb and lay a boot into the back of your head.” Her warning ushered, Jade steps into her home and shuts the door, leaving Jess stood in the middle of the road, staring into oblivion with no understanding of the emotions she feels. | “The guns are ours, we’ve fulfilled your quota, and we’re owed the agreed-upon share” Franklin explains, a disgruntled expression worn on Courtney’s face the longer she speaks, “anything less operates against the arrangement made in Nova Scotia’s deal with Rockford.” Her hand pressed against her mouth, Courtney looks at Franklin without a word, her mind still wrapping around the cards dealt. “Why is it always you one-armed people that fight the hardest?” Courtney mumbles beneath her breath, pushing herself out of the chair as her attention is pulled toward Rocky. Sucking on the corner of her lip, Courtney presses her hands against the table, its glossy finish resting calmly beneath her warm touch. “I can't” Courtney sighs, wiping the hopeful look off of Rocky’s face with the shake of her head, “you’ll either get what you’ve always gotten, or you get nothing.” Whilst not surprised, the sense of betrayal hits Rocky harder than he’d expected it to, feeling the answer truly set in the moment Courtney turns her back to him. “We had a deal!” Rocky shouts, joining Courtney in climbing to his feet, “you owe us a fair share!” Matching Rocky’s angry tone, Courtney twists back, furthering the argument as their visitors watch on. “Do you know how long we’ve waited for you to start pulling your weight? If anyone owes anyone anything, you owe us!” Courtney shouts, each continuation of the conflict drawing the armed support closer to getting involved. “You fucks made it impossible to produce to your standard!” Rocky argues back, face turning bright red, “you’ve been using us for years now!” Turning away, Courtney gathers her belongings, repeating her original conclusion. “Leave the weapons at the docks, and we’ll drop off the same shipment you always get” Courtney explains, doing no favours to her perception in the man’s eye. “Excuse me, but those are our weapons” Franklin interjects, watching Courtney’s face turn in his direction, “and, unless you give us what we want, you’re not laying a finger on our property.” Zipping up a small knapsack closeby, Courtney lets the conversation resume, her attention given to the large man across the room from her. “Those guns belong to Nova Scotia now” Courtney responds, looking into the man’s eyes as she approaches slowly, “they’re our property because we said so. If I were you, I’d start losing my affinity for them.” “And if I were you, I’d start noticing that you’ve got no leverage in this argument” Franklin retorts, stepping out of his seat to meet the woman halfway, his tall frame immediately presenting Courtney as inferior in comparison. “Let’s be honest, this is the straw that broke the camel’s back- metaphorically speaking” Franklin explains, “as soon as Rockford’s people know that Nova Scotia is outright choosing to neglect them, your brothers and sisters up north will lose a settlement.” Taking the man’s claims as a joke, Courtney chuckles as her nose points upward, guiding her eyes toward Franklin’s. “We control the northeastern coast, and we’ve manufactured all the weapons we’ll ever need” Courtney remarks, playfully tapping the man’s chest with the back of her hand, “stop acting like Rockford’s irreplaceable.” “Maybe you should stop acting like it is” Franklin quickly counters, not once dropping his eyes from Courtney’s, “while we’re being honest, let’s also point out that the guns have nothing to do with Rockford’s value to Nova Scotia. No, no, no- it’s the docks that do.” Her confident mask slipping, Courtney’s eyes narrow just slightly enough for Franklin to notice, his past career giving him the experience to know that he’s already found the woman’s soft point. “If it were about guns, you would’ve cut Rockford off completely. After all, that’s what your leader did down in Delaware” Franklin persists, drawing a precise interest in the man’s claims. “How do you know it’s a woman?” Courtney inquires, just now beginning to feel the silent threat imposed by those she stands before. With a chuckle, Jack stands to his own feet, joining beside Franklin to add an illustration to her well-hidden worries. “We’ve gone to war with your leader before, and spoiler alert- we won” Jack replies, continuing to chuckle, “you see, ask your leader what the New World Order was and I’m sure she’ll remember us. And again, spoiler alert- we won.” Having entered the room with suspicions placed upon the settlement they call home, Franklin and Jack exude a confidence the likes of which spell terror for those high up within Nova Scotia that stand in their way. “You can’t supply the rest of the settlements without our docks. It was the New World Order’s fatal weakness, and now it’s Nova Scotia’s” Franklin remarks, continuing to lay in the cold truth, “and we’re happy to wait out however long it takes for the settlements you need our docks to supply to change their tune on that fair share.” Nostrils flaring, Courtney’s eyes pull away, her head shaking as her eyes roll. “I can’t give you what you want” the woman finally ripostes, needing to pull away from the pair she’d stood before in order to reclaim her wits, “this isn’t a decision Nova Scotia made.” “Well then, I guess we know what the leader’s conference I wasn’t invited to was about” Rocky responds, watching Courtney’s eyes dart toward him, her facade left to the past. “Fine, yeah- the other settlements are too comfortable with the status quo. And most of their populations are actually increasing, so that only worsens the problem” Courtney remarks, too constrained to do much else than come clean, “you were lacking behind. They thought they could use that to take advantage of the ports.” His head hung, Rocky’s fate is put to stone, no amount of work he can manage being good enough for his superiors north of the border to free his people of their torture. “I don’t like it either, but liking the decisions they make isn’t my job” Courtney explains, throwing the paramotor over her shoulders. Peering up at the woman, Rocky lets out a deep breath, resigning to the challenge that now awaits him. “Thanks, Courtney” the man replies defeatedly, moving aside to allow the woman and her armed detail to pass. Disappointed, Courtney follows her soldiers around the table, her eyes initially set upon the exit before a second thought occurs to her. Her soft hand resting on Rocky’s shoulder, Courtney lowers her face to the man’s ear, whispering away from the attention of anyone else. “They might come to take them by force, but if you close the ports down, it might do enough to get the message across” Courtney explains, departing with a pat on the back and a nod in Franklin’s direction. The door closing behind her, Courtney leaves Rocky with those that remain, Rockford’s governor leaving his attention on their shoulders. “I’m still a man of my word” Rocky remarks, watching the four eyes keep upon him, all anxious to figure out where the next steps reside. “Can I trust the four of you?” Rocky inquires, swiping the long, grey locks of hair away from his face. “As long as you’re still able to get us to Nova Scotia, I don’t think we’ve given you any reason not to” Franklin ripostes, looking to his side to watch Jack nod. “I was wrong about what I said earlier- about not caring what happened to this place” Jack admits, accepting his desire to see Rockford be given what’s due, “if it doesn’t fuck us over, let’s make sure Nova Scotia pays.” Taking a glance in Clint and Nessie’s direction, Jack’s mind wraps around Courtney’s confession. “Either we just got lucky, or we got our confirmation that Charlotte’s still running the show” Jack concludes, “from the way I see it- it’s personal now.” Letting out a sigh of relief, Rocky steps around the table and departs the room, nodding to himself silently as Franklin’s group is left to stay behind. “I don’t think this is going to end well” Nessie murmurs, an admission the rest of the group hears, but does not interact with, their eyes set fully on what Rockford holds in store. == Rise == “For someone who waved a gun in my face demanding their daughter be given back, you have awfully little to say” Jade inspects, Jess’ back pressed against the brick wall beside the patio’s entry. “I told you what I came here for” Jess ripostes, the gun still held at her hip, prepared to take aim at the slightest hint of peril, “that’s all you need to know.”
Her hands resting atop her lap, fingers interlocked, Jade’s right leg drops from her left thigh, the sole of her boot coming to rest upon the hardwood porch. “Need and want are two different things- I need to eat, but I don’t necessarily want to sometimes” Jade replies, her back sinking into the chair’s padding, “I don’t need to know anything more about you, but I do want to.” “That’s not my problem” Jess responds, her hair swept to one side of her head, eyes resting at the tips of the other woman’s boots, “give me my daughter, or I’ll kill you.” Allowing Jess’ declaration to simmer, Jade remains silent, considering how to respond. “What would happen then?” Jade inquires, remaining still in her chair as Jess listens, “you kill me, someone else takes my place and stalls just like I do. How many people are you gonna kill before someone comes around with a bigger gun?” “As many people as I have to” Jess replies, no need for a brief moment to consider a reply, the answer already held at the tip of her tongue, “without Amy, I’m dead anyway. I either find her myself, or I die trying.” The sky dark in the face of the morning’s wee hours, all that prevails through the silence are the grumbles of toads and buzzing wings of dragonflies that call the nearby pond home, rushing water from the nearby fountain reflecting the lights around the patio that host the women. “That sounds lonely” Jade ripostes, her voice beginning to soften, “I know that’s how it usually works with mothers, but I can’t imagine my life being dictated on the worth of someone else’s.” Her expression unchanged, Jess remains fixated on the ground just over Jade’s boots, tempted to respond. “I’m not a mom, and I’ve never been one. I’m not a wife, and the same rules apply. Maybe it’s just not my thing to understand” Jade persists, “but from an outsider’s perspective, that sounds sad.” “You’re right-” Jess replies, speaking in as much of a calculated tone as she had the entire night prior, “-it’s not your thing to get.” The pleasure she’d been given for a moment having faded, Jade’s mind begins to take elsewhere, only for the sound of the home’s front door pushing open to relieve the pair from the conversation. “Jade!?” Emilio angrily shouts, dressed in a white t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants, leading the rest of his small group into 18 Rawson at Archie’s behest, “what’s with the really early wake up call!?” Spilling out from the doorway, Alicia, Lauren and Angela huddle together whilst Salem, Heather and Amy flood into corners further away. “If this is to tell me the incinerator’s back online, I’d be very pleased with that” Lauren adds in, purposefully shouting in a sarcastic tone, “though, you could have given me a call for that.” Hiding from sight, Jess listens to the voices emerge from within the home, her expression changing at the sense of relief that comes over her, the familiar voices that sing to her ears providing comfort. “They have orders not to shoot” Jade remarks, watching Jess’ face turn toward her direction, “go rejoin your daughter.” Offering the green light, Jade waits for Jess to take her up on the offer, still sat in the patio chair, her posture unchanged. Hesitant to believe the town’s sole power figure, the thought of finding Amy in the next room over dwarfs all other reluctances. Keeping the gun by her hip, Jess rounds the corner, stepping back into the home with eyes on the main foyer, the distant words shared amongst those she once shared a family with growing closer at each every step. “Jade!?” Emilio exclaims again, his wait for the woman to present herself nullified once Jess steps through the connecting archway, his anger subsiding in favour of shock just as the rest of the group does. “Jess?” Alicia murmurs, quick to look at the woman in complete surprise. “Mom!” Amy counters with overwhelming excitement, her tiny legs dashing across the home’s large interior as she leaps into her mother’s arms. Dropping to her knees, Jess tosses the gun aside as her arms wrap around her daughter, Archie, Isaac and Oliver quick to pull away from the reunion in an effort to check in on their sister. “Hi, honey” Jess responds, tearfully sobbing as she runs her fingers through Amy’s hair, the little girl’s face pressing against the side of her mother’s neck, their fractured family becoming as whole as it can be. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = The front door of his home slammed into with a heavy fist, Jack answers the door to find Rocky stood on his porch, dressed as if he were preparing to depart. “Should the reason you’re here worry me?” Jack introduces, his hand pressing against the door’s frame while the rest of his body leans against the closest wall. “Not unless the people up in Nova Scotia worry you” Rocky replies, allowing himself entry as he steps past Jack. “Where’s the rest of your folks?” Rocky inquires, listening to the creaks that emerge as Jack swings the door shut. “Doing something that involves not being in this house, I’d assume” Jack ripostes, his arms crossing over his chest as he settles into a seat, “now, why would the Nova Scotians worry me?” The question surprising him, Rocky presses his hip against the living room’s wall, stood just to the side of the group’s metal tub. “Well, with all they’ve managed to do in a world without law, it’d be safe to worry a little” Rocky replies, the thumbs on both of his hands tucked into the waistband of his blue jeans, “they’ve got a lot of power at their disposal, and I’m not just talking about fire power. It’s not common you’d find someone that thinks opposing Nova Scotia’s interest is smart.” His eyes squinting, Jack’s elbows rest against his chair’s armrests, his face wearing a curious look. “Who said anything about going against Nova Scotia?” Jack responds, flipping the top to a pack of darts open as he lights a match, “the worst case scenario is that we withhold the weapons if they don’t give us our fair split. What’s the reason to worry?” Looking Jack in the eyes as the smoke from burning herbs wafts throughout the room, Rocky folds his arms, the trench coat and gloves he wears rubbing together as his limbs cross. “I don’t think they see it that way” Rocky replies, his tone dropping a few notes, “they’re sending Courtney with reinforcements. There’s a chance they don’t view this as us trying to get our fair share.” “I’m not following” Jack ripostes, taking another drag as he presses further into his seat. “We may see it as trying to get a fair split, but they might not” Rocky replies, “if they think we’re trying to slight them, they’ll use those reinforcements to make sure we cooperate.” The smoke from another drag flowing from his nose, Jack kicks one leg over the other with comfort, confident enough in his perceptions to present a smile. “I’ve seen war with Nova Scotia- or the New World Order, as I knew them- and I’ve won that war” Jack responds, paying Rocky a wink with a smile, “I like our odds.” Perplexed, Rocky watches Jack leave his chair, the smoke still lifting from the dart he carries between his first two fingers. “Sure, when it comes to combat, I like our odds too” Rocky replies, continuing to speak as Jack walks across the room, “but putting boots to their asses doesn’t help us long term, does it?” “As long as it helps long enough to get me to Nova Scotia, I’m fine with anything” Jack ripostes, setting his half-burnt dart in the ashtray atop the counter. “Well that doesn’t bode well for me, does it?” Rocky replies, slowly following the man’s trail toward the kitchen, “you may not have to care about this place, but I do.” “Rocky, my only concern is with getting to Nova Scotia. That’s the way it’s been since the moment we made the deal for those guns” Jack responds, his hands pressed against the countertop’s edge, “no offence to you, but what happens to Rockford when I’m gone is none of my concern.” Taking a damp cloth to the kitchen area, Jack pulls another drag off the dart and dulls Rocky’s response out with his cleaning. “I don’t think you’re seeing the point. If they look at us as traitors, we’re both fucked” Rocky replies, watching the sweat drip from Jack’s face, “there’s gonna be nothing coming into Rockford, and there’ll be no ticket to Nova Scotia for you.” “You better play nice then” Jack ripostes, throwing the rag over his shoulder as he rounds the corner, pulling the cigarette to his lips as he looks Rocky in the eyes, “because, if you break your promise, I’m gonna be a very dangerous man to live around.” Taking a final drag, Jack presses the burning herbs into the ceramic pit, never once taking his eyes off the visitor. “I want what’s best for this settlement, and you want what’s best for yourself” Rocky replies, his crossed arms falling back to his sides, “the only way we both get what we want is if we work together.” With a light chuckle, Jack presses his hand against the counter, waiting for the man’s proposition to be made. “I want you and your friends to sit in on the meeting. I want them to know you’re a powerful influence in these talks” Rocky remarks, “they’re your guns after all, it’s only right.” The offer sitting in the back of his mind, Jack lets a few moments pass as he ponders the proposal. “They’re looking for it to be on the 28th of June. They’ll hold a summit with the leaders from the other settlements before then. If they’re letting the others have a say in whether or not we get shafted, my hopes aren’t high” Rocky concludes, bowing his head as he turns to let himself out, “I hope you’ll accept.” Exiting as independently as he’d arrived, Rocky returns to his business whilst Jack stays behind, still yet to fully digest the discussion that had taken place. | “And that’s when it happened” Jess responds, stood in the foyer’s centre with a gathered crowd huddled in her every direction, Amy sat in the chair beside her. “So, they run across you in the woods, they tell you where Cumberland is, and Ryan gets spooked by the horde and steps in the bear trap. What next?” Isaac replies, taking pen to pad as the woman responds, detailing every bit of the story presented. “Ameil hurried over to help him. I’m pretty sure he knew couldn’t open the trap, but I think he just wanted to know he tried” Jess ripostes, stoic in the face of a traumatic recollection, “that’s when the dead got him.” Visibly disheartened, Amy presses her hands over her knees as she falls back into her seat, whilst Heather sits close by with the feeling of nausea building within her. “After that, I just ran” Jess concludes, her hand placed upon her daughter’s feeble paw, “I didn’t stop until I got here.” The story offered, Isaac turns to Jade with a subtle nod, the cover of his notepad falling over the paper he’d written upon, the tale given closing a short chapter of mystery in Cumberland. “Alright. That’s all we need” Jade finally mutters, clearly disheartened as she turns for the patio, “welcome to Cumberland.” Watching the woman retreat, Emilio pulls away from his clustered group, following Jade through the length of her home in silence. “I can see your reflection in the windows, Emilio” Jade murmurs, stepping through the home’s rear exit. “I just wanted to make sure you were alright” Emilio replies, stepping onto the terrace as the woman falls into her seat. “Why wouldn’t I be?” Jade questions, still carrying an obvious amount of sorrow behind the composed expression she’d prefer people see. “Because losing people isn’t supposed to be easy” Emilio replies, taking his eyes to the pond for a quiet moment. “What’s unfortunate about that is that it is” Jade ripostes, her feet stood close to the patio’s ledge, “the more people there are, the easier they are to lose. We live, we die, it’s natural. You get used to it eventually.” Not wishing to argue the moral dilemma behind the woman’s statement, Emilio remains quiet, unsure of how to react. “The hard part is having to tell their family” Jade adds, her hair laid over the shoulders she presents bare, only topped by the straps to her tank top, “that’s the part that sticks with you.” The sunlight bouncing off the water and cascading a bright, yellow glow over her pale face, Jade turns to return home, bags beginning to form beneath her eyes. “I’ll tell her for you” Emilio finally remarks, watching the woman’s eyes take to him, her lower jaw pushed slightly ahead. “Thanks for the offer, but the hunt was my idea. I need to be the one to tell her” Jade replies, her hand patting the man on the chest as she walks past. “Do you need to or do you want to?” Emilio turns back to reply, watching the woman spin around after a few silent moments. “You’re a good man, Emilio” Jade responds, patting the man on the side of the cheek before turning away again, “keep it that way.” | “You’re getting good at that” Jack remarks from afar, his hands tucked into his pockets as he watches Franklin’s bayonet drive through the eyesocket of a straggler beyond the gates of Rockford’s borders. “What’s got you working the hard labour?” Jack proceeds to inquire, his hand sifting through an assortment of weapons that have been left to a nearby metal bin, “I thought we’d left that life behind?” Amidst grunts and heavy breaths, Franklin fights the lines of sweat that drip from his face to answer. “They were short-handed. I figured it’d be of use to help” Franklin replies, slashing at another corpse through his momentary pause, “it also helps me get a break from you- which, if we’re being honest, wouldn’t be wise to invade.” Grasping the end of a rebar pipe, Jack struts toward Franklin with a humoured grin. “Let’s not pretend like you’re not getting something out of this too” Jack responds, the pipe held between his fingers as if it were a pool cue as he strolls past the large man, “go ahead and tell me that reuniting with Alicia wouldn’t make you the happiest man on earth, and I’ll call you a liar.” With ease, Jack presses his teeth together as stragglers roam closer, the closest of which parting its teeth to give Jack an easy attempt at ripping the pipe through the zombie’s throat. “I’m not mad at the plan, I’m mad that you kept it from me” Franklin ripostes, wiping the sweat from his face before joining Jack on the frontlines of defence, “you let me think she, and all the rest of them, were gone for months. You don’t just take that back and expect things to be peachy.” “Half of that plan would have revolved around getting Clint and Nessie on board” Jack replies, stabbing the next corpse in the face mid-sentence, “they didn’t want to follow a plan to begin with. If I tell any of you earlier, how well do you think it would have gone over?” The midsoles of his boots covered with sand, Franklin’s bayonet slices the next corpse’s face in two just as he begins to respond. “I didn’t say I couldn’t understand your reasoning, I said I’m no fan of it” Franklin responds, his boot lifting to press against the next corpse’s chest, “you need to give me a minute to forgive you for leaving me in the dark.” Finishing the job he’d started, Franklin’s boot shoves the dead to the dry soil below, and with a brief hover over the body’s face, splatters the brain matter its skull once contained along the ground. Staying behind, Jack lets the head of the rebar sit in the ground, his eyes squinting against the blinding light of the new summer. “I hope you won’t need much more than a minute in that case-” Jack replies, his free hand shielding his eyes from the world’s lightbulb above, “-because I don’t think we have much more than that to offer.” His path forward clear for the moment, Franklin peers to Jack from just over his shoulder, a curious look scrawled upon the combatant’s face. “I don’t like when you talk in riddles” Franklin ripostes, turning away from the field ahead in favour of returning to Jack, “cut to the chase and tell me what you’re getting at.” Through a sigh, Jack leads Franklin back the way they’d arrived, returning the rebar pipe along the way. “Rocky stopped by to let me know that he’d scheduled a meeting with the people from up north in a couple of weeks” Jack replies, the collar of his shirt beginning to darken with sweat, “he wanted us to take part.” Chewing the gum in his mouth slower, Franklin thinks to himself quietly for a moment, the bead of sweat that dangles from his nose finding its way to the rough ground before Franklin’s voice can emerge. “Why would he want to do that?” Franklin responds, finding no amount of silent questioning can offer him the answer he seeks, “that- it just makes no... no sense.” “He said he wanted our friends up north to know we’re a ‘powerful influence’ here” Jack replies, unable to hold back the eye roll he instinctively answers with. “So he wants them to think there are more people to push around than just him?” Franklin asks curiously, only able to get a shrug from Jack. “If that’s what it sounds like, then sure- it’s better than what I could come up with” Jack retorts, “whatever the reason is, the offer’s there. We either take it, or we don’t.” Hands pressed against his hips, Franklin’s eyes pull toward the coastline, where the sunlight bounces off the waves of the Atlantic’s warm waters, searching through countless thoughts in an effort of finding his preferred one. “Get Nessie and Clint to agree, and I’ll be on board” Franklin finally responds, stepping back into the harsh field to continue his work, “whether together or separate, some of us should be there.” Nothing left to say, Franklin turns back to his duties, rejoining the small militia beneath the gruelling heat as Jack watches on, satisfied with the answer enough to leave the conversation behind. | “So, are you scared?” Lauren inquires, stood beside Angela to the right of Alicia whilst Salem occupies the side to the left, their journey taking them up the quiet streets that lead to their home. “I don’t think ‘scared’ is the right word. ‘Disappointed’ might be, but ‘scared’ isn’t” Alicia ripostes, her baggy grey t-shirt worn just as it was when she’d first awoken, the entire day having passed since they’d stepped foot in their home. “Franklin?” Salem interjects, the disheartened nod she gets from the middle-bound woman affording her the answer. “It’s not that I’m worried about having a kid alone, it’s just that he’s not gonna be there- for any of it” Alicia replies, her head beginning to hang, “he won’t be there for the birth, or for the birthdays. He won’t be there for the first steps, or the first words. Our kid is gonna grow up without their father- that’s the hardest thing to think about.” “Sure, but on another hand, there’s a chance they won't” Salem responds, rubbing the small of Alicia’s back with a friendly, optimistic expression, “Lauren’s still holding out hope to get back to Jack. There’s a fair chance Franklin’s out there looking for you somewhere too.” Flashing the woman an appreciative grin, Alicia bows her head with thanks as the rest of the small group’s attention is taken by a sight in the distance. In silence, the group’s pace begins to lighten as a woman, overcome by grief, staples a set of flyers to the telephone pole nearby. Without a word, the woman walks off, venturing to the next street over as the trail of tears present through the light hint of makeup she wears. The first to step forward, Lauren pulls away from the group to approach the poster, the pictures plastered upon the paper striking her as familiar despite how far away they sit. “You alright, Laur’?” Angela calls out, just as taken back by the woman’s departure as those beside her. Without a response, Lauren continues upon the flyer, able to read the bold-lettered ‘Missing Children’ headline from afar, the faces in the picture just above growing clearer as she steps closer. “Seriously, Lauren- are you alright?” Alicia exclaims, the next to break off from the pack, concerned by the silence Lauren continues to meet them with. The odd women out, Salem and Angela soon pursue their separated friends together, watching Lauren stop at the pole’s base with a look of worry. “Who are Roddy and Randy?” Salem inquires from afar, reading the bold print beneath the boys’ pictures. “Do you know them, Laur’?” Alicia follows, her hand resting on the small of the woman’s back. Still silent, Lauren continues to look at the pictures, the sickening pit in her stomach only continuing to worsen with time. “Laur’?” Alicia calls again, Lauren still able to hear her name called, though too challenged for thought to respond, “Laur’?” Alicia calls once more, finally earning something of value. “No” Lauren replies, forcing the profound look of distress on her face aside, “I thought I did- but I don’t.” Offering no more than that, Lauren pulls away, hands hung by her sides as she walks off for home, the rest of her group left behind in confusion of how to react. | “I love how easy it is to find the two of you” Jack exclaims, stepping beside dirty footprints on his way to the bar where Clint and Nessie reside, drinking the night away in peace. “Does the fact that we like booze make us predictable?” Nessie ripostes, meeting Jack with a sarcastic tone. “It does to the trained eye” Jack responds with equal sarcasm, pulling the stool Nessie sits upon to the side, replacing her spot with an empty stool he soon occupies. “Do we need to ask why you’re here, or are you going to tell us regardless?” Clint qualms, his hands clasped around the condensation-covered glass his beer is contained within. “I think you already know the answer to that question” Jack responds, the dance music that softly roars through the building’s stereo system not strong enough to overpower the voice he follows his Irish ancestors in the tradition of commanding a room with. Downing the alcohol that remains in their glasses, the siblings climb down from their stools and follow Jack to the alley just behind the pub. “Rocky came by the house earlier” Jack remarks, not even fully walking through the tavern’s rear exit before starting the conversation, “he wants us to take part in the meeting he’s got with the Nova Scotians.” “Woah- hold up and slow down” Clint quickly interrupts, surprised at the information, “he- why?” With her arms crossed, Nessie stands in front of Jack whilst Clint leans against the bar’s brick wall rear entrance. “A power move? A bargaining chip? I don’t know- the point is, he wants us there” Jack replies, his face dirtied by what he’s occupied his day with, “Franklin’s interested as long as the two of you are.” “Why would we want to?” Nessie responds, sliding a stick of gum between her lips as she continues, “I don’t see how us getting involved with their meeting will help matters.” His head shaking, Jack is left with as little of an answer as he’d held for Franklin. “I can only guess what his motives are. He gave us the offer, and he said he wanted Nova Scotia to know we were powerful figures in the conversation” Jack replies, “aside from that, I can only make assumptions.” “Well, we’ll work with what we know then” Clint ripostes from afar, less interested than the others in speculation, “what reason would Rocky have for including us in this meeting?” The question raised, the trio wonder separately, working within the dimensions given. “I mean, he did say he wasn’t confident they’d give him a fair share” Jack replies, hurling a wad of spit onto the sunset-illuminated asphalt below, “maybe he thinks our support gives him a better shot?” “Or maybe he’s got too little leverage to make demands?” Nessie quickly adds, her arms still crossed upon her chest, “he did say he needed people to keep seeing him as a competent leader, didn’t he? If he’s getting shoved around by the pricks up north, it might keep him from retaining control down here.” “Or alternatively, he knows the meeting isn’t going to lead anywhere good” Clint responds, a notable dread carried in his response, “maybe having us there is less about giving us a say and more about redirecting the blame.” Looking away, Jack lets Clint’s conclusion settle, the idea too believable to disregard. “I did tell him what happened to Rockford wasn’t any of my concern after we were gone- he didn’t seem too put off by that” Jack recollects, finally turning to look Clint in the eyes, “you might be onto something.” Their suspicion only growing, Nessie offers her answer before any further persuasion can convince her otherwise. “We should take the offer” Nessie interrupts, cutting through the tense inner-thought before it can simmer any further. “Were you not listening to a single thing I just said?” Clint rebuttals, his sister’s response quickly changing his mind. “We can go there, sit in and wait for Rocky to make his move” Nessie explains, invigorated by the plan she’s concocted, “if he seems too eager to let the Canadians have their way, we can speak up and demand more of them. Make it impossible to blame us for cutting Rockford short, if that’s really what he’s hoping to do.” Hesitant, Clint makes his argument against the proposition, too eager to refuse his sister any leverage on the matter. “Not only would challenging Nova Scotia be a bad move, but it’d screw Rockford short anyway” Clint retorts, scratching the back of his buzzcut-shaven head, “we come in too cold, he can blame us for giving them too much. If we come in too hot, he can blame us for reaching too high and leaving the town with nothing.” “Then we don’t come in too hot or too cold- we let Rocky make his argument, and if he low-balls, we take over from there” Nessie replies, looking her brother in the eye as she speaks, “if he tells us to slow our roll, we pull our foot from the gas and let him take the fall for calling us off.” “It’s a better choice than just not showing up” Jack interjects, quickly finding himself aligning with Nessie, “Rockford still doesn’t know about the surplus last time I checked. If shit goes south, we still have a card to play stuffed up our sleeve.” Still reluctant, Clint begins to pace around the alley, the lingering doubt in his mind relentlessly trying to pull him toward opposing the idea. “We’re a threat to him now, Jack. When we first met the man, he said ‘if you were a threat to me, I’d want you gone’” Clint recalls, stood in the alley across from Jack and Nessie, who now reside shoulder-to-shoulder. “His hold on this compound is loosening every time the ships dock without enough food to feed the entire settlement” Jack ripostes, stepping away from Nessie to approach her brother, “we have to do something before he decides we know too much for comfort- this is our chance.” “If we sit around waiting for the next trip to Nova Scotia, we’ll just be sitting ducks” Nessie adds, rejoining her brother by standing to Jack’s side, “our best bet is to get some leverage on him while we can. If this settlement takes him down, we can make sure he doesn’t take us down with him.” Every attempt at persuasion leaving him feeling more guilty the longer he declines, the pressure to give in finally consumes Clint. “Fine” the man replies, granting Jack and Nessie the wave of relief they’re left consumed by, their accomplished sighs earned. == Rise == “You’re not answering my question!” Annie exclaims, stood in the foyer of 18 Rawson, overcome with grief and anger, “where the hell is my husband!?” Aside from the woman’s yelling, the home remains quiet, littered with people stood in unspecific corners, waiting for Jade’s answer. “He and Ameil never made it back” Jade responds, her head hung out of shame, entirely unable to look Annie in the eyes, “the horde caught up to us before they could get back- we had to leave.”
With a lump in her throat, Annie’s lip quivers, her voice unable to put into words the scattered thoughts that rush through her head. Nearing tears, Annie turns away from the woman, hiding her face from the home’s inhabitants as Heather takes her place in the discourse, leaving Amy in Salem’s arms. “Ameil knows his way around the dead, there’s a chance he and Ryan hunkered down somewhere out there” Heather suggests, her eyes searching for those equally-optimistic. “We haven’t found bodies, so there’s no reason to presume they're dead” Heather explains, waiting for a voice to speak up in her defence, “I think we should group up and go out looking.” The most reluctant of the siblings, Isaac speaks up first, his voice angelically deep. “We’re not private detectives, Heather. We can’t just stop what we’re doing every time someone gets lost” the man ripostes, an answer that mildly irritates the woman. “They’re not just someones- they’re your someones” Heather argues, her arms crossing as she approaches the man, “they were lost on your trip. So, as far as I’m concerned, you’re responsible.” The next to align himself with Isaac, Oliver interjects, sat on the centre staircase just a few feet away. “The town’s incinerator just got pushed offline and we’re expecting a call from Nova Scotia by the afternoon” Oliver remarks, leaving little room for reasoning, “we’re too busy for a search party.” Feeling disregarded, Heather’s arm-cross stiffens, her feet pressing against the ground with more force. “If the town’s people were sent into an uproar, would you be too busy for that?” the woman rebuttals, watching Isaac and Oliver’s eyebrows begin to narrow, Archie’s attention caught in the near-distance whilst Jade’s exterior is unchanged. “Watch your words carefully, Heather” Oliver warns, wishing to quell the threat before it’s too late, “you’ve got a lot riding on us.” “And as far as I can tell, you’ve got a lot riding on me now too” Heather counters, approaching the still-sat man with a determined look, “what would your citizens think if they knew that their streets were about to start smelling like sewage all because their leader wanted to go out for a hunt and left two of her own behind?” Grimacing, Oliver pulls himself away from his seat, allowing Heather to get closer toward his face before Jade puts her foot down. “That’s enough- both of you” Jade remarks, leaving her perch near the kitchen’s entrance as she approaches the squabbling pair, “we’ll send out a search party. It’s the least we can do.” The tension alleviated, Heather takes the silence that follows Jade’s order as an excuse to back away, returning to Annie’s side. “Archie, Isaac- go get ready to head out” Jade commands, trusting the men can take care of the job appointed to them, “as for everyone else, go back to your activities. This meeting is dismissed.” Her priorities elsewhere, Jade retreats to the kitchen, taking a seat at the foremost table as Emilio watches on, noticing the preoccupied look in her eyes. “Something on your mind?” Emilio asks, gently tapping the kitchen’s passage borders with his knuckle. His presence coming as a surprise, Jade takes her attention away from the map she’d sprawled across the tabletop. “Why? Do you need something?” Jade replies, her face empty, awaiting further comment. “No, I just wanted to check in” Emilio responds, an answer that slightly confuses the woman, “you look... worried.” Crossing her left leg over her right, Jade’s left hand stretches out to her kneecap, resting on its bend. “I run Cumberland- I’m always worried” Jade replies, unafraid to admit the concern she carries deep within herself, “all it takes is one fuck up for everything to come crashing down. I’m trying to avoid that.” Sensing the woman’s reluctance to say more, Emilio turns away. “I’ll leave you to it” Emilio ripostes, following the same exit the rest of his group had taken. “I don’t mean to be callous” Jade suddenly calls out, trying to be appreciative of the good intentions the man entered with, “I went out for one afternoon, and not only do I lose two people, but the town’s incinerator goes down while I’m off duty. For obvious reasons, this isn’t my finest hour.” His lips pressed together, Emilio gives the woman a gentle nod before proceeding toward the exit once more. “It’s not a problem” Emilio replies, wishing not to be of further interruption. Taking her eyes back to the map, Jade listens to the front door open and shut, a few seconds allowed to pass before relief comes over her. Her right hand balling into a fist, Jade swings her hand down upon the table, a crashing thud emerging from the contact. Throwing her back into the seat, Jade stares at the kitchen window across the room, where the pond in her backyard continues to be assaulted by the droplets that descend from the heavens as the new day begins to dawn. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = “There aren’t many jobs out here looking for filler candidates” Lauren responds, watching a string of storefronts zip past the window of the public bus she and Alicia occupy. “So that’s it, huh?” Alicia queries, one foot pressed against the back of the seats ahead of her, “just wait out the outage and hope it doesn’t take long?” “I’ve got no other choice” Lauren ripostes, holding back her frustration so as not to take it out on her friend, “I just have to wait out the clock.” Defeated, Lauren sinks into her seat, staring down the length of the crowded vehicle with a frown. “How’s Grace taking all of this?” Alicia replies, directing the conversation elsewhere at the sight of Lauren’s dissatisfaction, “is she taking it well?” “Does she need to?” Lauren is quick to reply, a somewhat sarcastic tone in her voice, “Donnie’s the eighth- was it eighth?- richest person in Cumberland. Why would she- no, eighteenth richest, sorry- why would she need to worry?” Hands in her pockets, Lauren restlessly awaits the vehicle’s next stop, her window seat paying her the responsibility of manning the pull cord just above the glass divide separating her from the outside. “Because you still need to work if you’re gonna get to Nova Scotia” Alicia responds, looking into the unchanged expression on Lauren’s face, “you’re still trying to get to Nova Scotia, right?” Her blank expression not leaving, Lauren pulls her hand from the pocket and tugs the cord, preparing the pair for their departure. “I don’t know what I want at this point” Lauren replies, squeezing past Alicia as she leaves her seat, preparing to disembark. “What do you mean ‘I don’t know?’” Alicia retorts, her friend’s confession surprising her, “that’s the whole reason we came here!” Not eager to continue the conversation, Lauren remains quiet, silently waiting for the bus to reach their stop. “Hello? Can you hear me?” Alicia asks, feeling her body pull to the side as their stop appears, Lauren remaining quiet, “why are you ignoring me?” “Because I sense the judgement in your voice” Lauren quickly replies, stepping off the bus the moment the doors open. “Judg- I’m not judging you” Alicia corrects, following the woman’s lead through the quiet, suburbian streets, “I’m just surprised.” Stopping a few steps ahead of Alicia, Lauren lets other passengers step past her, carrying on with their days as Lauren takes hers to turn back to Alicia. “I made the wrong choice” Lauren admits, stepping back to the woman with a disheartened look, “I felt more complete out there with Jack than I do here alone.” Her head hung, Alicia lets Lauren continue to speak, the bus’ engine roaring as the vehicle drives past them, their conversation left to them. “For a long time, I thought I just wasn’t used to all this” Lauren concludes, her voice shaky, “but when I go to bed, I know Jack’s still out there- and I’ll never find him.” “There’s a lot more to you than Jack, Lauren” Alicia replies, attempting to continue before Lauren’s interruption halts her. “I know that, and I don’t care. Everything was simpler with him” Lauren ripostes, the lump in her throat growing the more she persists, “my entire life was a chaotic rollercoaster. School, then work, then the apocalypse, then Tori- then Jack. It’s like everything else wasn’t a problem, and all it took for me to be fine was him. I can’t shake that feeling.” Becoming aggravated, Lauren tosses her bag onto the ground and takes a seat on the curb, a few moments of sitting in silence persisting before Alicia occupies the spot beside her. “How did you do it?” Lauren inquires, turning her head to Alicia, “how did you get over Frank?” With a chuckle, Alicia’s head begins to hang, her answer taking a few seconds to conjure. “I didn’t” Alicia replies, holding back a smile as her hand slides into the pocket of her oversized jeans, a glossy photograph retrieved and tucked into Lauren’s possession. Squinting curiously, Lauren stares at the photograph, the image it depicts hidden as it lies face down on her palm. “This isn’t about to-?” Lauren begins to ask, stopping herself as her left hand points toward the photo’s back, “what you’re saying makes sense, but I don’t think I’ve fully processed it yet.” Unable to hold her smile back, Alicia nods to the woman, forced to push the loose hairs over her ear. “You’re the only one that knows so far” Alicia replies, watching the woman cautiously turn the photograph over, the wave of uncertain worry that inhabited Lauren now quashed with genuine happiness, “I didn’t want anyone knowing until I knew for sure.” Her left hand covering her widened mouth, Lauren stares at her friend with wide eyes, all her troubles vanishing for one, incredibly fulfilling moment. “You’re pregnant!?” Lauren remarks, finally speaking the quiet part aloud as Alicia’s nod serves to confirm stated suspicions, “holy shit, you’re pregnant!” Wrapping her arms around her baby-bound friend with joy over the woman’s newfound destiny, Lauren pulls Alicia close, erasing their prior conversation from her mind in an effort to disregard it entirely, still partially incapable of addressing it with the weight required. | “I thought you restricted their gas supply, how’d they manage that?” Jade inquires, sat on the rear patio as the sun emerges, the rain that had crashed upon Cumberland waiting to return another day. “It had nothing to do with gas, their supply was the same as it’s always been” a woman’s voice responds, sharing the same aggravations as Jade, “wherever they got the arms, they didn’t get them with our help, our gas, or our supply.” “I hardly see why you’d need me to fly out to Nova Scotia for this” Jade quickly responds, sunken into one of the chairs overlooking the pond, “if they have these weapons, there’s nothing coming up there will solve.” The front door to her home opening in the distance, Jade brushes her brother’s re-entry off, continuing her call with no distraction. “Because we’re landlocked here, Jade. The folks up in Manchester won’t have Portsmouth up and running for months- hell, maybe years!” the woman on the other line replies, clearly simmering with anger, “this isn’t a meeting of negotiation, this is a strategy meeting. Jade, we’re on the brink of war- and Cumberland might be ground zero.” “You’re not leaving me with a lot of wiggle room here, I’ve already got a problem with-” Jade ripostes, looking to her patio’s entrance before going silent, her wide eyes offered to the sight that stands before her, “-I have to call you back.” Met with reluctance, Jade sets her radio’s receiver down and pulls herself up, both hands raised to her home’s invader. “Let my brother go” Jade replies, looking into Jessica’s eyes as the widow holds her handgun to the back of Archie’s head, “lower the gun and let my brother go now.” Her cold face continuing to stare at Jade, Jess refuses the woman’s request, her dirt-covered shoes leaving the muddy trail of her entrance behind. “You have someone of mine” Jess responds, her baritone voice showing little empathy, the end justifying the means as far as she is concerned, “I want her back.” | Walking Rockford’s grounds in a sleeveless white shirt, Franklin’s skin glistens with sweat as he makes his way home, his shortened arm temporarily freed from its metal extension. “‘Ay, Frank” Clint exclaims, Franklin’s large frame helping him stand out in a crowd, “can I talk to you for a sec?” With no reason to refuse, Franklin steps forward, severing himself from the unending line of residents that he passes by. “What’s up?” the man asks, a bead of sweat dripping off his chin, hands placed upon his hips as Clint begins to respond. “Not much- which is kind of the point” Clint replies, glancing at every resident, guard, and high-ranking official that strolls past, “doesn’t the town seem a little normal?” “When did normal become a bad thing?” Franklin ripostes, humoured by Clint’s discovery. “I never said it was a ‘bad thing’, but it’s definitely off from what I’d thought it would be” Clint replies, his arms crossed at his chest, his back resting against a brick wall to the dirt road’s side, “Rocky’s been worried everyone would be starved into a revolution, yet- here they are- all of the troubles are done with, and no one’s acting any different.” Squinting at the busy pathway as the sun burns bright just overhead, Franklin shares Clint’s overlook of the pedestrians, admittedly finding their lackadaisical response bizarre. “It’s like nothing’s changed. It’s like today’s no different from any other” Clint clarifies, turning his face toward Franklin, the man’s curious demeanour allowing him to feel like he’d not been the only one to grow suspicious, “excitement- I’d understand, worry- I’d understand, but nothing?” His concern only growing the more he questions the crowd without an answer to support the conclusions he’s made, Franklin pats Clint on the shoulder, turning back the way he came. “Let me check in with Rocky” Franklin responds, embracing the summer heat in hopes of uncovering answers, “I’ll check back with you later.” “There’s not much unshattered trust here anymore, so keep the docks off limits” Rocky replies, stood in his quiet home, its walls dating back to the late nineteenth century. “We don’t load anything onto their boats until an agreement is reached, and that is final” Rocky persists, giving the men he’s entrusted to guard Rockford their orders as Franklin knocks at the door, “our days of being fucked over are done with.” With a gentle tug, Rocky’s door squeaks its way open, exposing the interior of his house to the elements of the blazing outdoors. “Wipe your shoes off on the rug and close the door on your way in” Rocky greets, retreating to the rest of his home as Franklin enters, following the instructions as given. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything” Franklin remarks, watching Rocky sink into the leather cushions of a recently upholstered sofa. “I’m never anything but busy, so there’s no avoiding an interruption” Rocky ripostes, extending his hand to the empty chair across the room, “is there something I can help you with?” Not wishing to press his sweaty body into the seat, Franklin rests on its edge, his hands folded as his knees part. “I wouldn’t say ‘help with’, but more like ‘makes sense of’” Franklin replies, slightly unsettled by the various deer heads mounted along the walls. “There’s too much in the world for me to explain enough of, but I’ll do my best” Rocky responds, the friendly smile he wears not as large as Franklin would assume it’d be under the circumstances provided. “Well, I guess I’m just confused. I mean, I see everyone walking on the street today, and it’s like nothing’s changed” Franklin replies, noticing the interesting nod Rocky responds with, “as if taking a cargo plane’s worth of guns and ammo changes nothing. Why is that?” Letting out a sigh, Rocky’s right arm rests against his couch’s side, his eyes finding the analog clock’s smaller hand pointing toward the number ‘two’. “It’s because they don’t know yet” Rocky ripostes, his left hand moving to his right, where the button to his plaid shirt’s sleeve pops free. “They- why don’t they know?” Franklin replies, the answer catching him by surprise as much as the ease in which it arrived with. “Because I want to err on the side of caution” Rocky responds, continuing to undo his buttons and roll his sleeves as he leaves the couch, approaching a small table that sits closeby, where he takes a pack of cigarettes into his hand. “I’m only telling you this because I’m deep in your debt. What you and your friends have done for me is more than I could ever ask for- from you or Nova Scotia” Rocky explains, now taking a matchbox into his hand, “I want you to tell me you’ll keep this quiet.” His lips pressing together, Franklin waits a few moments before giving the man a nod, “I will” the survivor responds, still sat in his seat. Satisfied with the answer he’s given, Rocky proceeds, striking the match and lifting the flame to the stick’s tobacco end. “Nova Scotia makes fucking us over a passtime” Rocky soon replies, a puff of smoke floating from his lips, “this isn’t a new thing, they’ve been doing it for years. Long enough, in fact, for other settlements to get comfortable.” Reclaiming his seat on the couch, Rocky lets an ashtray sit on his lap as the conversation continues, momentarily breaking to pull a drag from the dart. “Comfortable enough- in fact- to be rather dissatisfied in the idea of Nova Scotia having to take from them to supply for us, even if we’re only taking our fair share” Rocky continues, the stick held between his right hand’s middle and ring finger, “even if we have scheduled a meeting, I’m not so sure Nova Scotia will be too bipartisan.” His eyes trailing off, Franklin’s concern only grows, his position between Rocky and the sunlit window casting the large man’s shadow upon the floorboards. “I don’t want you to get your hopes down. I’m not saying they won’t, I’m saying I’m not sure enough to just hand them our new toys and stretch out our hands for-” Rocky pauses, another drag taken from the cig, “-for a bigger cut. It’s a lot deeper than that, and that’s how it always is when you play Nova Scotia’s game.” “And you’re not telling the residents because- because why?” Franklin asks, his original question yet to be answered. “I don’t need their hopes up any more than yours are. They’d assume the same thing you did- that we’ll all be fine when the ships come to dock” Rocky replies, tipping the dart over the lap-top bowl, its transparent bottom strewn with ashes, “high hopes lead to falls from high places. If that happens, that revolution I’ve told you about will draw near- I promise you that.” | “Is Isaac alive?” Jade inquires, the unshaken aim Jess holds her gun with proving the composure she acts with, unphased by the lustre of the sanctuary they reside in. “He’s alive, but he’ll have a headache” Jess responds, her voice kept to the baritone pitch she’d entered with, “now, I want my daughter back. I know she’s here, and I know that you know where she is. Give her back, or I’ll kill all of you where you stand.” With her hands raised in surrender, Jade chooses her words with care, her voice lowering to a calm, undisturbed tone of voice. “None of us want to die over this, and none of us have to” Jade replies, her brother’s eyes following each step she makes, “but if we’re going to have this conversation, we need to be civil about it.” The ground rules laid out, Jade keeps her right hand held upward as her left slowly reaches to her side, the gun she wears on her hip easily visible. “I don’t want to hurt you any more than you want to hurt me. We all just want to make it out of this situation alive, alright?” Jade continues, freeing her gun from its holster before laying it on the ground, her foot kicking it to the side, where it falls off the patio’s ledge and into the artificial fountain, “let’s talk about this.” Blood running from the wound on the side of his face, Archie grimaces in pain as his left eye presses shut, hoping for Jess to meet Jade’s invitation. “Let my brother get help for Isaac, you can hold me at whatever gunpoint you want, and we’ll talk” Jade pursues, quietly hoping the woman will entertain her offer, the reluctance to show emotion making the interaction’s outcome impossible to predict, “you’re here for someone, and you said I know them. I would like to help you.” “Why?” Jess finally responds, the same tone in her voice left unchanged, “you don’t know the first thing about me aside from my name. Why would you help me?” Letting out a sigh, Jade’s hopeful expression turns to disappointment, almost judging the gun woman in a way. “Because whoever you came here for is clearly important enough to warrant holding my brother at gunpoint” Jade ripostes, “and to add to that, I already tried to help you before. You chose not to cooperate.” Her hair waving with the calm breeze that begins to roll in, Jess studies Cumberland’s leader, her eyes, her posture, her responses, anything that could provide an insight into the woman’s true motives. “Please let my brother go, and we’ll talk about whatever it is you’re here for” Jade concludes, preparing for the choice she believes Jess to have already made, unable to believe anything she can say would change that decision, “I gave you that chance before, and I’m giving it to you again.” Her chin tilting up, Jess pulls her sights toward Archie, the man still giving into Jess’ ownership with faith in his sister to ease the situation. Carefully considering her choices, Jess takes three steps away from Archie, her firearm slowly turned onto Jade once pleased with the distance. “Go help your brother” Jess orders the man, his body turning back for the way he’d arrived the moment Jess grants his freedom. “Thank you” Jade replies as Jess turns back to her, the gun woman's dirt-stained grey shirt entirely opposite that of Jade’s soft, ironed black tank top. “I came here for my daughter” Jess responds, brushing off the woman’s appreciation in favour of whom she’d arrived for, “now that I’ve given you what’s yours- do the same.” | “Sometimes I wonder how most of you survived while everything was still running” Jack quips, carrying a tray with an uncooked chicken atop it, “I worked in a warehouse for minimum wage and I can cook a better chicken than your local bar and grill could. What’s your excuse?” Amused, Clint and Nessie sit beside a wooden tub, washing boards and clothes dampened with soapy water carried in their hands. “We spent our childhood living off fast food and high metabolism” Nessie responds, the barely-padded chair she sits atop squeaking each time she moves, “went straight from that to living off the land. Ovens weren’t necessary when you have a knife to gut and skin with, and a fire to cook over.” “That might be the only valid excuse- props to you” Jack replies, rubbing his hands with a wet rag just as Franklin steps through the door. “Franklin, what do you know how to cook?” Jack charmingly calls out, posing over the counter like a catalogue model, his knuckles pressed against the bottom of his chin. “Haven’t we already had this conversation?” Franklin ripostes, discarding his sweat-soaked shirt in the pile of dirty clothes the siblings sit beside. “We’ve known each other for at least a few years at this point, I’m sure we’ve repeated the same conversations multiple times” Jack replies, continuing to present his smile, “that never changes how much fun I have when you answer.” Rolling his eyes, Franklin ascends the stairs and begins to approach the bathroom, his attempt to wash the day’s dirt from his dark skin thwarted upon the sound of Clint’s voice. “How’d the talk with Rocky go!?” Clint shouts, watching Franklin peer his head through the space between the bannister and the ground-level ceiling. “It was fine. No, it went well” Franklin responds, climbing back down the stairs to briefly rejoin the group, “he, uh, he told me plenty.” The room quiet, Clint, Nessie, and Jack stare at Franklin, waiting for the man to offer more than he’d explained thus far. Aware of his inability to get away with such little offered, Franklin leans against the bannister’s base, hesitant to give into the group’s request for more. “He said he wanted to ‘err on the side of caution’” Franklin replies, obviously displeased to rekindle the earlier conversation, “he said that he wanted the supply Nova Scotia owes to the town before he’ll hand them any weapons.” “Wait, he’s sceptical?- why is he sceptical?” Jack ripostes, his hands now pressing against the edge of the counter as he leans forward, the siblings both taking a break from the laundry to partake in the conversation. “He- well- Nova Scotia’s been dividing the rest of what they owe Rockford amongst the other settlements for a while now” Franklin stutters, still trying to understand the man’s outlook, “he’s worried the settlements will force Nova Scotia to keep the status quo.” “So- so, what I’m hearing is- the plan is to tell Nova Scotia to fuck off if they don’t give him what he wants?” Nessie replies, wiping the sweat from her face with her forearm, “that hardly seems like something Nova Scotia’s gonna tolerate.” “It’s not like there’s much of a choice here. Nova Scotia’s used the excuse of ‘you don’t produce enough’ to keep shortchanging this place” Franklin responds, his free hand sliding into his back pocket, “he thinks that, even if they shortchange him again this time, they’ll have to face the music. They won’t be able to excuse it for a lack of production- they’ll have to outright exploit him with nothing to hide behind.” “Okay, that’s great for Rocky’s ego- now tell me how that helps us” Jack replies, sliding the gloves from his hands as he approaches Franklin, “we still have a trip to Nova Scotia hanging in the balance here. This little ‘stab me in my front, not my back’ routine he’s playing is gonna backfire on us.” “Yeah, no shit. Go ahead, though- tell me what I can do about it” Franklin ripostes, both hands leaving their respective posts, now held out from his sides, “he’s the law of the land around here!” Too frustrated to begin moulding strategy, Jack rolls his eyes and walks away, tending to the group’s dinner as a way of escaping the mounting anger that begins to fill him. “He’s stuck to his word this far, and he’s admittedly set us up pretty well” Clint replies, assuming the conversation’s controls, “those guns wouldn’t be his if it weren’t for you. If we sat down with him, we might be able to talk him into a better plan.” “Oh, I see” Jack scoffs from the kitchen, unable to help himself from listening in, “you wanna reason with the man planning to stick it to the apocalypse’s equivalent of a world superpower- what could go wrong!?” Bracing the cold sweat that covers his body, Franklin crosses his arms, watching Jack’s return. “Do you have a better idea?” Franklin responds, watching Jack unfasten the apron around his waist, “as far as I know, this is the only option we’ve got!” Stepping forward with his finger pointed at Franklin, Jack attempts to speak, standing like a statue in the same position as he falls silent, a sudden thought dawning. With a sigh, Jack’s hands meet his hips, his head hanging as his right foot taps the ground. “I have to confess something” Jack suddenly replies, sharing a look around the room as the home’s silent residents wait for him to continue, “we didn’t come here by accident.” Confused, the group continues to look on, yet to comprehend what Jack’s admitting to. This lack of awareness recognised, Jack’s right hand glides into his back pocket, his palm retrieving a folded, glossy paper marked with different colours of ink. Looking Franklin in the eyes, Jack extends the folded guide, “I had Salem take the passenger’s seat for a reason. She must have gotten this from the glove compartment” the man admits, letting the paper enter Franklin’s hand. “I couldn’t let Lauren get away” Jack murmurs, leaving the group to their discovery as he returns to the kitchen. Huddling together, Clint and Nessie watch Franklin unfold the paper atop the woman’s squeaky chair, what they find not taking long to be understood. “Are these the settlements!?” Clint calls out, his question unanswered as Jack continues to walk away, the trails all leading to various towns throughout the northeast, all leading to their northernmost point. “We were close enough to Norwood, Cumberland, and Norwich for me to know where they went. I didn’t want to risk getting turned away by Jade” Jack explains, shame ridden through his voice, “this was the safest option we had.” Unsure of how to respond, Franklin sets the map down and walks across the house, caught in a mix of anger and relief. “Why didn’t you tell us this sooner!?” Franklin shouts, his raised tone matched by the cook, who throws his apron to the floor. “There was no point! We got here like I’d hoped, and the only one hurt in the process was me!” Jack exclaims, the sound of his confrontational voice bringing the room to another silence. “We have people to get back to, and the way there is through Rockford” Jack concludes, his voice calmer than before, “we have to fix this, and we need to do it quickly.” His hand extended, Jack waits for Franklin to return the gesture. “You have Alicia, I have Lauren, and the siblings have each other. We either take this opportunity or we lose them for good” Jack persists, looking his tall friend in the eyes as his fingers stretch out, “take it or leave it.” Nostrils flaring, Franklin looks to the man’s hand, thinking quietly to himself as his eyes meet Jack’s, the man left waiting for his decision. == Rise == Climbing out from its hole, a rabbit emerges from the bramble, its brilliantly-white coat covered in dirt. Gazing around the grass with its bold, brown eyes, the rabbit prances away from its home, sights set on the scattered, chopped carrots in the nearby grass. As if concerned, the rabbit pans around the forest again, peering into the vast assortment of flora, and expecting to find someone lying in wait, eager to pounce on the chance to take advantage of its preoccupation.
Satisfied enough to proceed, the rabbit scurries toward the carrots, placing the sliced disk at the front of its teeth before a distant shot rings out, the bullet propelled through its tiny frame with ease from closeby. “Good rabbit” Jess mutters, climbing out from her cover directly behind the rabbit’s hole, her dinner for the evening secured with little issue. With a dull knife and limited understanding of the process, Jess spends the afternoon hours struggling to shed the rabbit of its warm coat as the hot sun only grows warmer with time. Sweat trickling from her forehead, down the side of her face, and off the end of her chin, Jess slowly makes progress, eventually sliding her ineffective blade down the rabbit’s flesh well enough to serve. Above a small fire, the rabbit begins to cook, slowly browning the longer Jess spends watching it, the thin branch it’s skewered upon manually spun by Jess’ fingers. The dry patch of dirt over her head starting to dampen with her sweat, Jess scoops her carrots into a metal can and sits down for her meal, satisfied with the colour of her dinner’s cooked flesh. Removing the rotisserie, Jess raises the meat to her teeth, suddenly stopping at the sound of distant footsteps. On alert, Jess slides beneath the mound of dirt her back presses against, staying hidden from those that may approach from behind her. Wiping the drops of grease from her face, Jess reaches to her hip, the pistol housed there now taken into her hand, prepared to for may appear from behind the tall grass. Slowing her breathing to an inaudible hush, Jess listens beyond the low winds, her campsite darkened as clouds arrive just overhead. Unable to discern what’s being said, Jess listens to the whispering of two men about fifty yards behind her, their faint voices growing closer as the seconds pass. Just as they had arrived, the men excitedly huddle toward the ground, ruffling leaves and small twigs as they settle. Pulling her legs close, Jess lays the rabbit in a bucket and prepares to take part in the waiting game, her knees pressing against her ribs as the first few raindrops begin to fall. Continuing to talk amongst themselves for another few seconds, Jess listens in until their voices finally stop, an eerie silence emerging from her blindspot. Letting go of a deep breath, Jess readies her weapon, preparing to shoot as her eyes drift forward, falling upon the whitetail deer just past her makeshift slow-roast set. Coming to her realisation, Jess covers her ears, waiting out the seconds that remain before the gunmen behind her tear a bullet through the deer’s eye. Still able to hear the gunshot rippling through the trees, Jess watches the buck collapse as she huddles back into her cover, her weapon readied again. “Come on” Jess whispers to herself, paying no attention to the incoming rainstorm as the men approach, ready to be rewarded for their kill. “When was the last time you snagged a buck?” one of the men asks, climbing over a downed tree to keep up with the other. “It’s been a minute” the other man responds, leaping over a divot in the ground in route to their prized catch, yet to realise that Jess resides within that same crater, waiting for the right moment. “Minute or no minute, Jade’s not gonna have a problem with it either way” the first man replies, the sight of his feet whilst mid-jump affording Jess her moment. “Guns down, hands up!” Jess orders, rotating her aim between the two men as they turn around, immediately giving into the instructions made. Able to look both men in the eyes, Jess holds her aim on the second man, his familiar face speaking to memories of a distant time. “Ameil?” Jess murmurs, her look of awe mirrored across the man’s face, influenced by the slim odds of their reunion. “Jessica!” Ameil responds, noticing the fire by the woman’s side, “what are you doing here?” As the rain begins to fall harder, Jess lowers her aim, letting the gun hang beside her hip, their eyes yet to pull away from each other. “I could ask you the same thing” Jess responds, pressing her teeth together out of annoyance, completely unsure of how to reply past that. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = Watching Lauren emerge from the forest beneath the early drizzle, Grace occupies the cabin’s wooden front steps with a cup of tea in her hand. “You’re late” Grace exclaims, calling out to her puzzled co-worker with a frown, Lauren’s focus placed on the dozens of electrical workers venturing throughout their incinerator’s tunnel. “What’s all this?” Lauren replies, paying no mind to Grace’s earlier claim, “what are all these people doing here?” Allowing her own statement to be forgotten to time, Grace responds with a frown, her mug lifted to her lips mid-sentence. “The incinerator’s down. Something to-” Grace answers, her throat soothed by the brief pause it takes to pull down a swig of her warm beverage, “-do with the power grid.” “Okay, well- did they tell you when it’ll start working again?” Lauren responds, answered with Grace’s casual head shake. Turning away, Lauren sets her sights on the first worker she can find, his yellow vest sticking out boldly from the green-coated landscape. “Hi, I’m Lauren” the woman introduces herself, a smile as fake as her polite appearance. “Eddy” the man replies, taking her handshake on its offer. “I’m sure you already know what I came by to ask” Lauren responds, her hand finding a home on her hips. “If it’s about when your machine will be back up, I’m not sure yet” Eddy responds, walking back to the tunnel with Lauren following closely behind, the ground beneath them moistened enough to outline the bottom of their shoes. “We installed the incinerator after the zombies showed up, and had to hook it up to the main grid manually” Eddy explains, “if I had to guess, there’s a good chance something underground went awry.” Understanding very little of the man’s response, Lauren simplifies her question, “is there a time frame we’re working with?” the woman counters, hiding the pain that her fake smile inflicts, “are we talking hours? Days?” “More like weeks” Eddy responds, watching the plastic smile drop from Lauren’s face as easily as it had appeared, “Jade’s out of commission for the day, and this isn’t a small project. If I were you, I’d plan on it being down for a few weeks.” Freed from her responsibility of being hospitable, Lauren turns away without another word, walking back to Grace with a scowl on her face. “Any progress?” the tea-drinking woman replies, immediately recognising Lauren’s disgusted look for what it is. Her walk slowing, Lauren stands in the middle of the open lot, thinking quietly to herself for a few moments before responding. “They’re waiting for Jade to answer them- they’ve got no idea yet” Lauren answers, turning back to return home the way she came. “That’s it? You’re just gonna leave?” Grace calls out, her fingers wrapped around the rim of the mug as it hangs between her spread legs. “There’s no point in sticking around!” Lauren replies, back-tracking her way toward the entrance’s path, “lock up here when they’re done!” With her arms extended, Grace watches the woman walk away, no true intention of returning. “See you tomorrow, then!” Grace exclaims, her head shaking as Lauren holds her hand up, the only genuine ‘goodbye’ she can muster. | “Why do they give you so little?” Jack inquires, sat near the front of Rocky’s boat whilst Franklin sits in the rear, guiding his vessel and the nineteen others that follow. “If you give a little, you’ll get a little” Rocky responds, sat close to the middle, barely able to hear Jack over the sound of crashing waves, “it justifies giving us so little to work with. If we can’t produce the amount of weaponry they want because they short-change us, it justifies them short-changing us.” “Doesn’t that hurt their bottom line?” Nessie interjects, sat directly opposite their recently-acquainted friend, “sure, you’ll be the one suffering. That said, they’ll be the ones with less ammunition.” With a chuckle, Rocky shakes his head as his eyes drift toward the seas ahead, his face splashed with droplets. “There are fewer dead to kill and fewer living to fight” Rocky replies, “whatever the other camps make is more important in the long run than my bullets.” “And they don’t fear other settlements revolting?” Franklin interjects, one hand steering the vessel toward a distant island off Boston’s coastline. “Are you nuts? They fuck us over so much because it doesn’t make a difference to them” Rocky responds, never unamused by his guest’s cluelessness, “we get the scraps because the other settlements thrive. What’s one unhappy settlement if you’ve got dozens of others that love rolling in shit like pigs? I’ll tell you- they’re fucked.” “It still doesn’t add up. There’s nothing Rockford does that other settlements don’t already have their hand in” Clint explains, his curiosity still looming, “why keep you around if they’d be fine with cutting you out entirely?” With a shrug, Rocky shakes his head, again looking toward the distant island reserve. “It’s pointless questioning why Nova Scotia does what it chooses to” Rocky replies, letting out a defeated sigh, “it doesn’t make us any less screwed.” “No, but it could work in your favour” Clint quickly argues, adamant in his claim, “whatever it is that makes Rockford necessary for Nova Scotia- if you can figure out what that is, you can make a deal with them.” Hands wrapped around the back of his head, Jack takes Clint’s claim to heart, thinking the man’s statement over before concluding his own. “The ports” Jack mutters aloud, taking Rocky’s eyes toward him, “it’s the same reason they set up compounds at the start. For easy transport.” “They’ve got other ports along the coastline, Pinky” Rocky responds, quick to dismiss the claim. “Yeah, and they had other compounds too. One in Concord to make travel from Nova Scotia to New York easier. Or New York itself, so they could get between Concord and Delaware easier” Jack replies, finding the pattern written in plain sight, “They need Rockford because it keeps them from needing to travel inland to deliver shipments.” “You’re wasting your breath, kid- negotiations aren’t on the table” Rocky responds, quick to continue his dismissive reaction, “if Nova Scotia smells their strength starting to wane, they won’t hesitate to remind you why they’re the central power.” His response catching the eye of those in the boat with him, Rocky senses the need to explain himself, doing so before the opportunity can be given to him. “We tried to produce oil ourselves to up the flow of goods we were making, and I told you Nova Scotia put a stop to that” Rocky recalls, his eyes dropping as the mood begins to fall, “they cut off our supplies, took half of our personal weaponry and sixty percent of our food. They told us to work or starve, and we haven’t stopped since- all because one of our packing stations got drowned out by a flood. We got behind schedule one time two years ago, and we’re still paying for it.” The information they’re privy to beginning to unsettle them, Franklin and Jack look toward each other in silence, passing glances at Clint and Nessie to suggest a shared feeling of dread. “If Pinky hadn’t gnawed off his pinky like that, we would have shot you where you stood- we couldn’t afford people knowing where Rockford was” Rocky explains, not trying to hide his prior motivations, “but if the four of you can put this nightmare behind us, I will forever be in your debt.” “We only want a ride to Nova Scotia” Jack replies, quick to voice the trade off, one that Rocky takes kindly to. “And if this place is stocked with supplies like you say it is, you’ll have it” Rocky responds, extending his right hand out to Jack, this time neither hand being bloodied by self-inflicted wounds, “I’m a man of my word when the people are right.” Looking into Rocky’s eyes, Jack sees a genuine hope he hadn’t had upon their first encounter, a response that eases him into accepting the man’s offer. With the meeting of their hands, Rocky and Jack feel a bond in appreciation for the other’s past, as if their shared hope weren’t possible without the chances taken by the other. | “Is the rain a big deal?” Emilio inquires, more cautious in his step as he follows closely behind Jade, staring at every inch of ground they have yet to cover. “The small critters will run for cover, but we’re not hunting them” Jade replies, her rifle worn on a strap that rests around her neck, hands pressing against the same rocks she climbs over to venture further out. As the minutes pass, the rain begins to fall harder, crashing down with force. “Does it ever get tiring?” Emilio inquires, his hands pressing against the wet assortment of rocks ahead, “being the leader of a ton of people, I mean. Does it ever get tiring?” Her lips pressed together, Jade shakes her head, aware of her answer before any depth is needed for it. “I think I’ve done it long enough to the point where all the exhaustion is gone” Jade responds, her lips coated in a shade of black lipstick, “it’s just second nature now.” Nodding along to the answer, Emilio continues forward, following the woman to a clearing in the trees, their eyes finding the large body of water that lies ahead, its surface beaten by the droplets. “How about you?” Jade inquires, the question confusing the man that follows her lead, “did it ever get tiring being your last group’s leader?” With a sigh, Emilio’s eyes begin to roll, his annoyance sparked with the question’s verbalisation. “How many times do I have to repeat myself?” Emilio responds, the only hint of emotion in his voice being that of the exhaustion he holds for having to answer, “I wasn’t the leader.” With a chuckle, Jade tries her best to hide the amusement she gets from the man’s answer, her efforts doing nothing to keep Emilio from overhearing the humour she takes from it. “I’m sorry. I know you’ve convinced yourself that you weren’t, but you were” Jade replies, periodically peering at the man from over her shoulder, “and that’s not a bad thing. If I’m being honest, I don’t know why you think it is.” Rolling his eyes, Emilio continues to follow along, feeling his boots begin to sink into soft dirt, the banks of the woodland’s hidden pond resting at the tip of their shoes. “It’s not like you were the leader against everyone else’s will. From what I could tell, they were all in favour of you” Jade continues, sensing the man’s reluctance to respond now that he stands beside her, “it’s not like it’d be infringing on your democratic code.” Gritting his teeth, Emilio takes his view toward the distance, watching the storm clouds reflect off the natural waters as he ponders Jade’s point. “If you’d have met the people I’ve come across with that title, you’d understand my hesitation” Emilio responds, an answer Jade laughs off. “Who are we talking about? Tony? Dawson? Charlotte?” the woman replies, recalling the group’s vivid detail of their administrations, “or are we talking about John?” Feeling himself scurrying in circles, Emilio turns away, preparing to return to the path he and Jade had travelled to reach their reflective destination. “Running away from the truth?” Jade calls back, watching the man cease his retreat, looking back at her with an unpleasant look, “or are you just walking away from the past?” “I’m walking away from the conversation” Emilio quickly responds, watching the smile stretch across Jade’s face, her amusement knowing no boundaries. “No, you’re not” Jade replies, tucking her fingers into the denim pockets at her sides as the rain begins to pour worse, “you’re just walking away period.” His face coated with drops of water, Emilio stares into Jade’s eyes for a few seconds, keeping his silent and unresponsive exterior worn like a mask. “Have you ever stopped to think about how you got here? Maybe think about the things you said to people on the way?” Jade persists, watching the man slowly return to her, bracing against the wet conditions, “maybe think about the things you did to people on the way?” “What are you getting at?” Emilio cuts back, eager to hear the woman’s declaration from her own lips, not pleased with the game being played. Her tongue pressing against the corner of her lip, Jade hangs her head for a moment, thinking to herself as Emilio nears, his eyes staring a hole through her chest. “You hate the idea of having to be a leader, and it’s clear that your first-hand accounts through the years have made that true” Jade responds, “could some of that be John’s doing?” Thunder beginning to roar at the mention of John’s name, Emilio takes a step back, forcing himself to create distance between the pair. “I’ve said it before- we had our reasons” Emilio replies, his defensive response guiding Jade toward his most vulnerable thoughts. “And you can’t see for a moment why those reasons could have been misguided?- or even wrong?” Jade questions, the silence she’s initially met with only continuing. “Think about what you’ve done since this started. All the lives you’ve had to take to get this far” Jade explains, closing in on the man’s treasured beliefs, “you sent a plane crashing into a town of thousands, you led a misguided revolution, destroyed an entire democracy! Where does it end!?” “I didn’t do those things- John did” Emilio replies, unknowingly biting into the same hook Jade cast out to catch him with. “And you followed John. Everything he did was something you condoned by following his lead” Jade responds, stepping forward to voluntarily close the distance Emilio had originally created. “We had-!” Emilio quickly interrupts, only for he, himself, to be interrupted by the same woman. “-reasons, yeah- I’ve heard that once or twice” Jade interjects, leaving the man no room to retreat as she continues to approach, “from what I can gather, those reasons were wrong.” Confronted, Emilio pulls his face away, watching the sky’s flashing lights bounce off the foggy waters. “Look at me. I’ve been in charge of Cumberland since day one and we had no vote!” Jade exclaims, getting right back in Emilio’s face, “I’m the furthest thing from an elected official.” “You’re different” Emilio retorts, feeling the truth’s he’s curated begin to crumble at his feet, impossibly weak beneath the woman’s persistence. “Why am I different? Because my city hasn’t been lit on fire yet? Because I’m not executing people in the street?” Jade asks, her own conclusion soon dawning near, a look of realisation finding her eyes, “or is it because I’m not morally conflicted?” “What is that supposed to mean?” Emilio retorts, taking the jab at his expense for what it is, the thunder beginning to roar through the air as the woman replies. “It’s been nearly five years since the world ended. Have you ever taken a second to reflect on- fuck, anything? Jade inquires, taking Emilio by the bottom of the chin, his face guided toward her own, “have you ever stopped to think that maybe, just maybe- you’re the bad guy?” Given no chance to answer, Jade and Emilio’s confrontation is put to a halt by the cruel gods above, the lightning bolt that crashes upon the water embracing them with a gust of heat. Their eyes taking toward the sound of the eruption-like crash, Jade and Emilio stare out at the water, the sights that emerge from behind the greenery across the shallow pond redirecting their attention. “We need to get back to the truck” Jade remarks, watching the undead clump together as they approach the pond, taking attention from the people on the other side as their numbers continue to rise. “Is it a horde?” Emilio inquires, answered with little more than Jade’s hand wrapping around the collar of his shirt. “Let’s not stick around to find out” Jade shouts back, pulling the man in her direction as they retreat, the dead only continuing to grow. | “I’m home!” Grace shouts out, her voice bouncing off the walls of their large, spacious entrance foyer. Her bag being left by the side of the door as she shuts it, Grace glances back toward the spacious interior, waiting for a response that never arrives. “Donnie!?” Grace exclaims, again standing by for a response from the second level. Only met with further silence, Grace proceeds into the kitchen, her shoes being slid from her rough-skinned heels and left at the entrance. Pulling open the refrigerator, Grace wraps her hands around the first glass pitcher she sees. Pouring herself a tall glass of pomegranate juice, Grace rests the pitcher back in the machine and closes the door, her feet carrying her to the kitchen’s island, where she occupies one of many seats. Winding down for the evening, Grace gazes around the kitchen for a few minutes before the sound of a wooden pole toppling over rings throughout the home from the upper level. Startled by how close the noise seems, Grace peers back the way she came, nothing left in the foyer or walkway to suggest anyone would be present. “Hello!?” Grace inquires, waiting for a response that, again, never replies. Left with no other option, Grace grabs her drink and proceeds toward the stairwell, its sloped, marble design leading her from ground level to the floor above. “Donnie!?” Grace calls out again, no longer waiting for a response, but hoping for one, “are you home!?” As unresponsive as it were when she had arrived, the home remains quiet, only the sound of heavy rainfall from beyond the windows and doors to answer her, the sunlight blocked out by dark, ominous rain clouds. Cascaded in a shadowy grey, Grace watches the walls begin to talk, every other step allowing her to see beyond corners and into long stretches of darkness, the shadows that appear upon the white-coloured aisles giving her a clue into what lies ahead. “I’ve had a bad enough day as it is, don’t make it worse” Grace worriedly shouts, again given nothing in response, not even the outline of a figure to coax her into untravelled, hardwood-floored descents into uncertainty. “Seriously, Donnie- this isn’t funny” Grace exclaims, her left hand trembling enough for the juice in her cup to nearly slip over the edge, offering the opportunity to slide down the glass’ side and to the floor. “You got out of work two hours ago, I know you’re home” Grace warns, convincing herself of fables she could only wish were as real as they’d been made out to believe in times of strife, “if you’re in here, I’m going to hurt you!” Her heart beginning to race, Grace glances down the hall where their shared bedroom rests, its entire length hidden behind a sea of nothingness. Too scared to look away, Grace presses her shaky right hand against the wall, her palm fumbling around in search of the lightswitch she knows to be near. Grazing it with her fingers, Grace presses her hand into the switch, horrified by the uncertainty of what lies in the dark ahead, but somehow more afraid of what the darkness is bound to reveal. Forcing herself to throw her hand upward, Grace cloaks the hall in fluorescent light, what lies beyond surprising her in the best way. With relief, Grace calms her unsteady breaths, feeling her heart begin to beat slower as her mind regains control of her motor functions. Laid out on the ground, the handle of a broom rests against the floor, the closet door from which it fell knocked open amidst its descent. Laying her cup on the floor, Grace stumbles forward, still reeling from the suspense she’d been overcome by. Without issue, Grace lifts the pole and places it back into the bin it had fallen from, now able to close the door with a smile on her face. Feeling the locks set into place, the worry Grace had felt linger in her stomach before returning, the closing door blowing a small gust of wind back at her face. As her loose hairs settle, Grace stares at the door’s handle, unsure of why she’d become so worried. Timidly retreating to what caused the feeling, Grace opens the door again, the handle pushed down a few inches before guiding the door closed again, letting the handle rest in its normal position. Still uncertain, Grace repeats the action a few more times before putting her worries aside, allowing them to fester as she begins toward her bedroom. Empty handed, Grace flicks the lightswitch and closes her door, attempting to retreat to bed before the realisation suddenly dawns upon her. As if chased by a ghost, Grace throws her bedroom door open and dashes through the hall, kicking her glass of juice over as she scrambles toward the front exit. Pushing her feet into the first pair of shoes she can find, Grace dashes through the front door and hurries off into the distance, her spilled juice beginning to trickle down the stairs. Racing through the forest, Grace returns to her workplace, the cabin locked and secured whilst the accompanying tunnel remains open, welcoming whatever may come upon it to a dark, miserable journey. Running through thick clumps of mud, Grace pries the incinerator’s tunnel doors from their restraints and seals the cavernous interior off from the world, the worried hole burning in her stomach being filled as she locks the gates up and prepares for her return home. | “What you’re saying doesn’t make sense” Jess responds, sat across the small campsite from her unarmed contemporaries, their rifles lying beside her hip. “You’ve said that three times now, and you’re no more clear than you were the first” Ameil retorts, sat on a rock just ahead of the woman, his hair drenched in rainwater, “what doesn’t make sense?” “Why they’d consider you a ‘family of three’ and huddle you into an apartment” Jess replies, both hands pressed together beneath her chin, “if they’d put Emilio and the rest in a townhouse, it’d make sense to give you a single-family house. It doesn’t add up.” “Well- it’s not like we plan on being there long-term” Ameil responds, Jess’ eyes pulling toward him at the slightest hint that she could be right. “When Cumberland families are pregnant, or have a kid under sixteen, they’re given an automatic ticket to the next Nova Scotia group” Ameil confesses, watching Jess’ eyes light up with a festering anger. “You were gonna take Amy to Nova Scotia?” Jess replies, her head pulling away from the coupled hands at her chin. “You were gonna take my kid to Nova Scotia!?” Jess repeats, her voice beginning to raise to a shout, “you were gonna use my kid to get yourselves to Nova Scotia!?” His hands held out, Ameil watches Jess leave her seat, pleading a refusal to fight as she rushes at the chance to approach the man. “It wasn’t for us!” Ameil shouts, continuing to back away as Jess progresses, closing the small amount of space between them, “John wanted us to!” Her pace stopping, Jess stares into Ameil’s eyes, the anger she feels only resting at the brink of the pot it simmers within. “That was the plan you’d been preaching since before we met- to find somewhere safe to settle into!” Ameil explains, desperately trying to defend himself, “we thought the two of you were dead, so we were trying to get Amy there with us- like you’d wanted!” Able to understand the reasonable explanation, Jess struggles to settle down, gradually alleviating her anger through sheer will. “We truly thought you were all dead. If we knew you were alive, we would’ve come running once we saw the explosion” Ameil explains, watching the woman’s rage subside, “it’s not for us, I swear.” Slowly walking backward, Jess’ curiosities only continue to build, the distant sound of thunder ripping through the skies serving as a backdrop to their conversation. “I want to see my daughter” Jess remarks, slicing a piece of the cooked rabbit’s flesh off with a greasy switchblade, the water that coats it not concerning her. “Yeah- I’ll do my best” Ameil responds, again earning Jess’ disapproving side-eye. “You’ll do your best?” Jess replies, almost mocking the man’s response in a way, “what the fuck does that mean?” Cut off from speaking by the persistent sights of lightning flashes through the sky, Ameil waits for a moment, allowing the thunder to roar before answering. “I don’t know if Cumberland will allow it” Ameil responds, speaking through a disappointed muzzle, “I’m not sure how that process works.” “You wont get her back” Ryan replies, chiming into the conversation unrequested, an audible dislike for Jess contained within his voice, “they won’t give her to a single mom.” The man’s comments taking her ear, Jess swallows the cooked flesh she’d ripped apart with her teeth before responding to the third, mostly unfamiliar, man. “I’m Amy’s mother. They’ll either give her back to me, or I’ll burn the town down trying to take her” Jess responds, pointing the tip of her knife in the man’s direction. “Do you think threats are gonna make them change their minds?” Ryan counters, failing to see the reason within Jess’ thoughts, “if you were in their shoes, where would you leave a kid? In the hands of a single parent, or in a house with a mom and dad?” “I’d give the kid back to their birth parents, that’s what I would do” Jess replies, slicing off another piece of her meal. “What if their parents were neglectful?” Ryan suddenly retorts, the answer he asks from the woman going unreturned, only a curious look given back to him. “What does that have to do with this?” Jess responds, noticing the jab subtly taken at her. “Ryan, stop t-” Ameil interjects, both Jess and Ryan’s hand held toward him, both parties wishing for his silence. “I want to hear what the man has to say” Jess replies to Ameil, her focus given back to the man at the far side of the camp, tossing her skewed rabbit aside as she leaves her seat, approaching Ryan with her knife brandished, “what are you implying, Ryan?” Aware of the threat, Ryan leaves his seat and begins to back away, retreating one step for every foot Jess advances. “I said what I said, and I won’t say it twice” Ryan responds, visibly shaken by Jess, who brushes off Ameil’s persistent concerns as the third man backs away. “Don’t interrupt me, Ameil. It won’t end well” Jess explains, continuing to place her attention on Ryan, his active dissertation playing into her hand, “what’s wrong, Ryan? Won’t open your mouth now that it’s not convenient?” Adamant, Ryan continues to back away, his hands held at his chest in a show of surrender. “I’m not going to play this game, ma’am” Ryan replies, watching Ameil approach slowly from behind, making sure the conversation doesn’t end with blood being shed, “I said what I said, and I’d- Aaahhh!” His scream measuring close to the level that curdles blood, Ryan collapses onto his back at the stinging sensation around his ankle, which wears the sharp teeth of a bear trap directly through his shin. “What the hell did you do!?” Ameil exclaims, bumping into Jess with his shoulder as he races up to Ryan’s side, only able to work off of what he sees. “He stepped into a bear trap, I didn’t do anything” Jess responds, lifting both hands into the air. Tending to the wound, Ameil hears three distant gunshots ring through the air, his eyes widening as he looks out at Jess. “We need to go now!” Ameil shouts, reaching into the trap’s claws in an effort to pry its jaws apart. “Jess, I need your help!” Ameil exclaims, looking back to the woman with distressed eyes, her posture remaining unchanged from what it was before. “Why are you standing there!? Help me!” Ameil exclaims, again trying to pull the jaws apart to no use, the few inches of separation nowhere near the leverage required for an escape. “Jess, get the fuck over here!” Ameil exclaims, again finding the woman where she last was, standing at the campsite with the knife by her side, unwilling to intervene. “He’s screwed either way” Jess replies calmly, unphased by Ryan’s torturous screams, her finger aimed in the distance. “Aarrgghh!” a horde of roaming corpses groans in the near distance, their sights set solely upon the distressed men. “Oh god, Ameil! Hurry up!” Ryan shouts, unable to feel anything other than the soaring pain in his leg, its sensation making silence impossible. Attempting to pry the teeth off Ryan’s leg once more, Ameil’s third failure spells disaster ahead, time running too low for hope to prevail. As the dead near closer, Ameil is taken by surprise at the size of the impending horde, the three-bullet signal already having called for him. “I’m sorry, Ryan” Ameil murmurs, reluctantly pulling away from the man with a grimace on his face, any extra minute spent trying to win an already-lost fight serving as a threat to his own survival. “Ameil, please! Please, help me!” Ryan exclaims, digging his fingers into the mud as he tries to crawl away, aware of the writing on the wall. “PLEASE!” Ryan screams, reaching his hand out for Ameil as the dead finally close in, his friend’s back begrudgingly turned toward him. “Ameil!” Ryan screams once more, feeling the teeth sink into his calf as others begin to gnaw at his back, the rest digging into whatever they can reach. Listening to the guttural screams fade away, Ameil looks on in disbelief, hearing the man’s final gasps be taken, his own name the final thing spoken off the man’s tongue. Backing away, Ameil is helpless to do anything other than watch, his head shaking as the noises begin to decrease, soon fading beneath the starved groans of the dead. Only a few steps back, Jess peers at her hand, a sudden thought wrapping around her mind and pressing down, guiding her forward with a scowl. Storming forward, Jess presses her left hand upon Ameil’s shoulder whilst her right swings forward, plunging the blade into the man’s back with minimal effort. His shocked groans turned into a pain-ridden shriek, the sensation of the dagger being ripped from his lower back almost worse than the pain of it entering. Unable to process what’s happened, Ameil’s weak knees give out as his body spins around, the sight of Jess standing over him speaking all that he needs to know. “I’m sorry- I need to get Amy back” Jess explains, her blood-covered knife readied for a second shot, “I can’t have you ruining that for me.” Yearning to finish what she’d started, Jess buries her knife into Ameil for a second time, this thrust piercing his jugular with lethal force. Regurgitating his own blood, Ameil collapses face-down in the mud, slowly left to bleed out in the rain as the dead approach, kneeling before the man and consuming what’s been left for them. “It had to be done” Jess whimpers, wiping the snot from her nose as she backs away, the knife in her hand tossed into the vast forest. “It had to be done” Jess repeats, turning away from the dead and beginning her sprint toward safety, unable to focus on anything more than convincing herself that she’d done what was necessary, “it had to be done.” Creating puddles with every step she takes, Jess sprints through the woodlands, her eyes set on the clearing in the trees as she leaves the scene of the crime, completely ignoring the act she’d just committed. == Rise == One of many, a ragged corpse stumbles toward the sound of struggle, taking whatever delight it can from the presence of its prey, fending off the likes of its kind. Cutting off one side of a reasonably new bridge as others approach from the opposite end, the zombie drags itself closer to the sound of desperation, hoping to get lucky and drag its victim down unsuspectingly.
His decay withering him down to loose skin, withered muscle and fragile bones, the corpse draws near, reaching out for its meal as its opportunity arises. As quickly as it had arrived, the corpse is discarded of, the crown of its skull caved in by the claw of a hammer, whose handle rests within a familiar grasp. “Keep moving, Clint!” Jack shouts, watching the once religiously-pure man rip his weapon from the undead carcasses skull and advance forward. “We can’t keep moving with them like this!” Franklin shouts, watching the number of the dead increase as his bayonet-tipped cap swings in the direction of rotten stench. “What do you suggest we do!?” Nessie shouts, kicking corpses aside as she takes on one at a time, her left hand grabbing their throat as her right brings a mallet over their heads. “Find some fucking cover!” Franklin shouts back, forced to push back the undead onslaught as they begin to pile up. The only man spared from fighting for the moment, Jack glances toward the bridge’s side, the coastline itself littered with trees he can barely see over the tops of. “There’s a few houses on the shoreline!” Jack shouts, jabbing his phillips-head screwdriver at anything that walks, “if we can reach the end, we should be able to slide down to them!” “I’ll settle for whatever works!” Clint exclaims, nearly splitting a corpse’s skull in two. “Get to the fucking shoreline then!” Franklin shouts, satisfied with the plan enough to start throwing his weight against the scrawny undead, leaving corpses to knock each other over as if they were bowling pins. Divided by a few feet, the group continues to push toward the front of the bridge, leaving whatever threat they’ve yet to dispose of behind in hopes of out-pacing them. In the very back of the group, Jack continues to wail on the dead, spacing his breaths to avoid getting winded. “I think I see a road up ahead!” Jack calls out, beginning to lag behind the others as their discards climb back up, beginning to turn their sights toward him, as if they could smell the sweat dripping off of his face, “if we can take it east, we’ll-!” Dropping another corpse mid-sentence, Jack pulls his hand back to free the screwdriver from its resting place, only to find his grip to have been relinquished, the perspiration-covered handle remaining in the dead’s skull as it falls beneath the next wave of corpses. “Fuck!” Jack shouts, watching multiple pairs of feet stumble over the body his weapon is buried in, separating him from his trusted defence permanently. “What’s going on back there!?” Nessie shouts, watching her brother begin to crawl through choked gravel and dirt on his way to the street below. “I lost my weapon!” Jack shouts, forced to pull away from the hornet-like swarm around him whilst kicking aside the dead in brief moments of self-preservation. “I’m coming, Jack!” Franklin shouts, ripping at the collars of a few weather-damaged shirts before his friend’s order calls him off. “Don’t! Just get to the houses!” Jack shouts, his back now pressing against the colour-faded green, metal fence. “I’ll find my way down!” Jack shouts again, this time aided in his declaration by Nessie, who hurries back to lead Franklin away by the hand, trusting Jack to handle himself. His lower body’s strength as strong as his pursuers are weak, Jack creates enough momentary separation to conjure a plan, seeing little option ahead that doesn’t result in his death. As Jack wraps his hands around the metal gate for leverage, a thought suddenly dawns upon him, leading the man to take a momentary glance at the waters below with a smirk. Taking advantage of the space he’s created, Jack turns his back to the dead and propels himself over the metal gate, lowering himself onto the ledge with caution, his fingers wrapped around the solid bars dividing him from the dead. Pulling back, Jack hangs himself over a steep drop into the water below as the dead advance, reaching their arms through the bars in hopes of getting within reach. “I hate how fucking ironic this is” Jack murmurs beneath his breath, glancing to his left as Nessie and Franklin descend toward the street below. “Ah, fuck!” Jack suddenly shouts, pulling his left hand away from the bars at the sensation of a stinging pain, his pinky finger curiously bloodied. Shaking his hand, Jack comes upon a quiet realisation, only needing a moment in thought to wear himself into horror. Without giving his actions additional thought, Jack lets his second hand pull away from the metal bars, his weight pushing backwards as he does so, allowing him to plummet into the rough waters below. Submerged, Jack feels the tide pull him away from his destination, unable to fight the stinging sensation in his back to begin pulling toward the surface. With effort and resilience, the man breaks through the surface, gasping for air as he paddles toward the shore, where Clint already awaits his return. Rushing into knee-deep waters, Franklin and Nessie hurry to meet Jack in the water, pulling him to land once in reach. “That was too fucking close!” Franklin shouts, letting the man’s shoulders fall onto the rocky, grass-covered back lawn of their riverside meeting point. “How many more of those encounters are we gonna have before someone gets hurt!?” Franklin angrily questions, clearly agitated by the struggle presented. “None” Jack suddenly interjects, gladly playing the opposition to Franklin’s concern. “Why is that!?” Franklin shouts, throwing his metal cap in the grass out of frustration, “have we finally learned our lesson!?” Still struggling to catch his breath, Jack holds his left hand toward the group, the water having washed the blood away to leave only the wound itself. “No” Jack replies, unable to speak without audible disappointment, “I’m bit.” Having seeked comfort in the release of his anger, Franklin is pulled back to earth by Jack’s statement, unsure of how to respond whilst Nessie gives into denial. “No- no you’re not” Nessie replies, clearly rattled by the revelation as she hurries to the man’s side, taking his hand to inspect it herself. “Yeah, Nessie- I am” Jack responds, pulling his hand from her reach and shaking it to relieve the pain, “a dementia-ridden Sherlock Holmes could figure that out.” “Yikes!” a distant, yet guttural voice exclaims, armed with an assault rifle as he approaches the group, flanked by dozens of men armed with the same, heavy-duty equipment. “When you find an infected washed up on the beach, the first thing you do is-” the man exclaims, waiting for his brigade to respond. “Eradicate the threat, sir!” the men all shout in unison, no one soul offbeat from the rest, not one existence daring to stand out from the cargo jacket, white t-shirt wearing ‘sir’. “We don’t want-” Clint begins to explain, his words dying off as quickly as he is interrupted. “You don’t want any trouble, I’ve heard all of that before” the grey-haired, clean-shaven, mid-50’s appearing man replies, his voice coming across with the tone of rolling molasses, “I don’t care, and I’m not gonna.” “We’re not a threat to you” Nessie replies sharply, protective of the people around her. “Is that supposed to change anything?” the man inquires, keeping his rifle aimed to the side, “if you’re a threat to me, I’d want you gone. If you weren’t a threat to me, what use are you without a pair of balls to stand your ground? Hell, one of y’all is already bit! It’s a lose-lose for you, darling.” “We don’t have to be a threat to you in order to be a threat in general” Jack replies, angrily pushing himself off the ground as the older man begins to laugh. “You’ll be dead in days, I know you’re a threat in general” the older man replies, readying his weapon to fire, “that’s why I have you and your friends down.” Throwing herself in front of Jack, Nessie shields her friend from the man’s line of fire, not caring for the result of her choice. “Little lady, you’d be better off steppin’ aside” the man warns, preparing his sights for a shot. “He doesn’t want bravery, Nes’” Jack groans, gently guiding Nessie aside, “he wants something more than that.” Lowering his weapon, the old man indulges Jack’s claim, intrigued by what the survivor is getting at. “Kid, I don’t know what your game is, but it’s not working” the militia commander replies, “bravery won’t keep you weak folk from meeting your maker.” “How about a tip, then? You know, for future use?” Jack queries, again prompting the older man to lower the gun from his sights. With a sigh, the man waits for Jack to offer his peace, providing another warning as he closes in. “My men will litter you and your friends with bullets if you don’t mind your distance, son” the greyed man explains, eagerly waiting for Jack’s advancement to cease. “Think of a bite like a problem” Jack explains, displaying his infected finger to the gunman, “if you get rid of it before it’s too late, you’ll cut out the problem before it ends you.” With a chuckle, the man clicks his tongue as he nods. “I already knew that, son” the old traveller replies, watching Jack’s smile creep in. “That’s good” Jack retorts, using his adrenaline to fuel his next move, “how’s this for weak folk?” Without warning, Jack leads his pinky finger between his teeth, feeling the tip of his digit press against the back of his tongue as his molars hover below the knuckle. Too committed to turn back, Jack sinks his back teeth through the skin, prying the pinky from his hand as the old man watches in surprise, listening to the audible crunch persist until there’s nothing left for Jack’s teeth to dig through, his hand shaking as it lowers from his jaw with one less count. Mouth slightly ajar, the old man watches a visibly shocked Jack close the distance that remains between them. With a blank expression, Jack spits the severed digit into the man’s face with no remorse, allowing a few seconds to pass before extending his bloodied hand toward his guest’s arm. “Jack O’Rourke” the man grunts, refusing to show weakness in his greeting, the hardiness shown earning Jack the man’s respect. “Rocky” the gunman replies, appreciatively refusing the man’s handshake whilst he remains visibly taken aback from the sight witnessed. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = “So, it was never part of your plan?” Lauren stumbles, stood across the room from Alicia and Salem with her arms crossed. “No! We had no idea!” Ameil replies, his body cascaded by the sunrise as it peers between the window’s individual shutters, “he told us to go, and that’s what we did.” “And you just assumed we were dead when the fireball went up?” Alicia asks, earning the response she anticipated. “What else were we supposed to think of it?” Heather counters, listening to footsteps patter along the floor overhead, “we never expected to see any of you again- I’ll be right back” she concludes, walking off to attend to Amy. “How’d you get here?” Angela questions, sat on a loveseat a few feet to the right of Lauren. “They brought us here” Ameil replies, glancing at each of his neighbours as he responds, his sentences mostly finishing with his eyes panning toward Emilio, “we were walking over a little stream when their cars found us. We weren’t in any position to fight, so we just hoped they’d see Amy and have some humanity left in them. Luckily for us, they did.” “And you just believed them when they said- what?” Salem inquires, her elbow pressing into the arm rest as she holds her head up. “They said who they were. They were from a town called ‘Cumberland’, they were patrolling a mile out from their border, and they wanted to bring us in for questioning” Ameil answers, “we were walking around the place because some street lights outside the walls were on. We knew there was power somewhere, so we followed the lights to it.” “The lights must be connected to the town’s power grid” Alicia interjects, willing to defend Ameil’s account, “it makes sense.” Still sceptical, Lauren pulls away from the wall, arms still crossed. “Why didn’t they question you outside?” Lauren replies, peering toward the man through squinted eyes as their landline begins to ring, “what made you three so special to them?” “Maybe the kid by their side had something to do with it” Alicia responds, engaging with the opposing side of Lauren’s question whilst Salem answers the phone. “Will you please stop answering for the man?” Lauren inquires, beginning to turn her annoyance toward the dark-haired couch dweller. “I’m not answering for the man, I’m making informed observations” Alicia retorts, matching Lauren’s increasingly-irritated tone of voice. “I’d like you to stop doing that then” Lauren responds, watching Alicia prepare to retort before Salem’s own frustration overwhelms them. “FUCK!” Salem exclaims, slamming the phone back on the receiver before storming out of the kitchen. “Where are you going!?” Emilio calls out, watching the irate woman march toward the front door. “I’m gonna kill Jade- bye” Salem replies, slamming the door shut as quickly as she’d ripped it open. Speechless, the group looks around the room for a moment, quietly wondering whether the woman is serious or not. “If Salem wants to kill Jade, none of us are gonna be able to stop her” Angela cuts in, aware of where the conversation had paused, “let’s get back to the ‘why are you in Cumberland’ story, please?” “There’s no story left to tell, we’ll just keep repeating ourselves” Heather replies, following Amy into the living space, “they found us, we let them question us, they gave us a house. That’s it, that’s the story.” “And they didn’t try to split you up?” Lauren asks, maintaining her reluctance for as long as it holds water. “They said they don’t split up families” Amy answers, her ability to do so still odd in the eyes of her peers, “and when the next bus comes, we get to go to Nova Scotland.” Getting on her knee, Heather places her hand against Amy’s head, whispering into her ear. “Scotia” Amy corrects, alleviating much of the worrisome suspense, “I meant Nova Scotia.” Leaving her seat, Alicia silently walks deeper into the home, leaving the conversation to those that remain a part of it. Allerted to the sound of knocking at their door, Emilio departs the conversation next, finding Ryan’s approachable look on the other side. “Hey, neighbour” Ryan greets, waving to the homeowner as his welcoming expression turns into a playfully concerned look, “should I be worried about the woman that just stormed out of here with a scowl?” “That’s Salem, and we’re not quite sure yet” Emilio replies, stepping aside to make room for the man’s entry, “come on in.” Accepting the offer, Ryan steps through the front door, immediately finding Ameil, Heather and Amy upon entering. “Uncle Ryan!” Amy warmly exclaims, holding her fist out. “Hey there, Amy-sphere!” Ryan greets, pressing his knuckles against those of the much smaller girl’s. “Can Ameil take me with you guys on your next patrol?” Amy excitedly asks, a question that prompts Ameil to stare at Ryan with a dismissive face, swinging his fingertips at the man as if to beg him to refuse. “I’ve only got grown up gear this time, kiddo” Ryan responds, a wave of concern brought over Ameil’s face, “maybe next time, though. Ok?” With a frown, Amy accepts the man’s answer and walks away, disappointed. “Maybe Emilio can join us?” Ameil abruptly asks, panning back to the hesitant man with a hopeful look, “I’m sure Jade would be interested in picking his brain.” Suddenly less hesitant, Emilio turns to Ryan, appearing as if he doubted the claim just made. “Jade is- wait, what’s a patrol?” Emilio questions, flustered with confusion. “We call hunting a ‘patrol’ around here so people don’t get the wrong idea” Ryan responds, lowering his voice, “you’re not supposed to go beyond the border.” Putting two-and-two together, Emilio turns back to the kitchen, where he occupies one of the island’s barstools. “But, if you’re up for it, we’d love to have you” Ryan doubles down, “it’s just Ameil, Heather, the McKee’s and I. We’ve got another set of gear if you’d like, though?” Reluctant, Emilio feigns considering the offer for a few seconds before attempting to decline. “He’ll do it” Lauren answers instead, watching Emilio’s face dart across the room, laying upon her with immediate annoyance. “Whatever this ‘hunt’ is, he’ll do it” Lauren doubles down, speaking louder than Emilio, who begins an attempt of refusal on his own, “I think he needs a few friends.” “Seriously, we’d love to have you!” Ryan replies, pleased with the answer as he glances back at Emilio, the man’s eyes watching Lauren look at him with a great intensity. “Yeah, alright” Emilio finally caves, giving into Lauren’s acceptance despite his preference remaining largely opposite of such an answer. “That’s great, I’ll send you the info then!” Ryan replies, shaking Emilio’s hand before preparing to leave, “I’ll see you all later!” Leaving the home, the group keeps their pleased facades worn until the coast is clear, where Emilio takes the chance to exercise his frustrations. “What the hell was that!?” Emilio barks, walking in Lauren’s direction with a confrontational edge. “This is your chance to find the others!” Lauren quickly responds, an answer that confuses Emilio the moment it leaves her mouth. “Wha-? You signed me up so I could look for Jack?” Emilio replies, unsure where her reasoning adds up, “Heather, we’re like- an hour outside of Providence. What, do you think he followed us?” “Who else is gonna be on the outside to find out?” Lauren retorts, gathering an equally confused look from Angela, “you could run into him on the way for all we know!” Pulling his head back, Emilio stares at Lauren as if he were wondering whether or not her answer was a joke. “Whatever, I’ve got to go to work” Lauren suddenly remarks, pushing past Emilio as she departs, leaving the home’s two residents hard for words. | Pounding her fist against the front door, Salem waits for an answer, refusing to speak until she knows someone is on the inside to greet her. “Whoever you are, schedule an appointment by telephone or mail” Archie replies from inside, sat at the kitchen table with a book in his hand. “Answer the door, or I’m going to drive that truck through your living room window!” Salem barks, almost able to hear a groan coming from within. “She’s not here, Salem” Archie responds, placing a bookmark in the page he leaves off with. “I don’t care, let me in or I’ll let myself in” Salem replies, again left waiting for a response. Casually strolling up to the door, Archie lets the woman enter, unphased by her physical display. “There are, in case you didn’t know, ways to talk to Jade that don’t involve threatening to destroy our house” Archie remarks, following the woman through the home, “like I said, Jade’s not here.” “My dead-sweep application just got reassessed and they hired me” Salem explains, climbing halfway up the house’s U-shaped stairs, “I know she had them change their verdict, I wanna know why.” Letting out a sigh, Archie’s head falls toward the ground, strapped for an answer. “Perhaps you convinced her the town was safe in your hands” Archie jokes, doing little to quell Salem’s anger, “our door doesn’t seem to be, but maybe the town will fare better.” “I’m not laughing at your joke” Salem replies, watching the man’s eyes roll. “I’m not joking! Our door has fifteen new dents, and I can promise you Jade will know exactly who put them there” Archie replies, pushing his humour aside for a moment, “I don’t know if she did, but why would that be a bad thing?” “Do I need to have a reason?” Salem responds, crossing her arms as she looks down from the staircase’s landing. “If you threaten to park my car inside the living room- yeah, kinda” Archie replies, looking into Salem’s face to find defeat. Silent, Salem’s head begins to hang, almost as if she were angry at the simple fact that she could be so angry. “Listen, I won’t pretend to know you or what you’ve been through. That’s not my business” Archie explains, watching the woman’s eyes trail toward him, “but I was there when we vetted you. I think it’s safe to say that, if we both had to guess, there’s something inside you that doesn’t click with all of this.” Turning away, Salem lets the man continue to speak, hearing him out without needing to pay him the attention he’d like. “There’s definitely an allure to what’s outside, Jade’s not wrong- but some people take to it more than others” Archie furthers, finally earning Salem’s eyesight, “you might just be one of the people that need it to function.” Calming herself from the anger she’d entered the home carrying, Salem’s breaths blow the loose hairs that hang in front of her face, throwing them outward before they fall back into place. “I don’t feel normal” Salem replies in a low voice, as if ashamed to make such a claim, “why doesn’t this feel right?” With a frown, Archie accepts the feeling of sympathy that comes over him, not afraid to offer an answer most would stray away from. “Maybe because it’s not?” Archie replies, pressing his hand into the railing as he looks at Salem, the silence that follows his response left to linger, sitting with them in the quietest parts of their mind. | “Is your real name ‘Rocky’ or do you just call yourself that because you live in ‘Rockford’?” Jack inquires, sat on a table as doctor’s tend to the wound on his hand. “What does it matter to you?” Rocky replies, leant against a surgical table with his arms crossed, hesitant to say much. “Well, if the answer is ‘number one’, it means you’re not trying to hide yourself. You don’t mind being open” Jack responds, holding back a slight chuckle, “if it’s the second, you’re just uncreative.” Amused, Rocky’s tongue runs over his bottom lip, wondering how to answer. “What is it, Rock? Are you an honest man or are you just a square?” Jack proceeds, watching the man’s teeth appear from behind his teeth. “I’m the man that chose to bring you into my home, and help you bandage that gnarly bullshit up” Rocky replies, both eyebrows lifting a few inches, “does that satisfy you?” “Jack, stop poking the bear” Nessie interjects, sat in a chair between Clint and Franklin, who keep their guard raised whilst Jack’s hand is stitched. “Where did you get these supplies in the first place, Rock?” Jack bothers to ask, disregarding Nessie’s suggestion with visible glee. “Stop asking questions, boy” Rocky replies, clearly beginning to grow perturbed, “you’re lucky that I let you live.” “Why is that by the way?” Jack continues, taking more joy in Rocky's reactions the more they divulge his true frustrations, “wouldn’t want to give your boys the impression that you’re ill-tempered? Maybe too trigger happy?” Unholstering a firearm from his hip, Rocky begins to approach Jack, letting the conferral warn the man on his behalf. “Maybe you don’t practise what you preach?” Jack persists, starting to laugh at Rocky’s perceived weakness, “all bark and no bite?” Goading Rocky into lifting his gun, Jack takes the opportunity he’s crafted for himself, prying his hand away from the attending nurse’s grasp and throwing it toward Rocky. With ease, Jack separates Rocky’s hand from the gun and takes it for himself, a gentle redirection now placing Jack in control. His finger on the trigger, Jack holds Rocky at gunpoint to the rest of his group’s surprise, giving into the thought in his mind. “What the hell are you doing!?” Franklin grunts, unable to comprehend the hole Jack’s begun to dig himself into. “He said it himself- we’re of no use if we’re not a threat to him” Jack replies, tilting the barrel of the handgun downward in an effort of guiding Rocky onto his knees, “I feel pretty fucking threatening now.” “We had a chance of being allowed to leave until you decided to point a gun at the man!” Nessie responds, keeping her voice to a minimum, “thanks for throwing that away!” His head shaking, Jack watches Rocky lower to the ground, refuting Nessie’s claims. “He wasn’t going to let us leave, but he’s gonna have a harder time getting us killed now” Jack replies, his voice calm and steady, poised in the face of his actions, “but if I’m lucky, he’ll cooperate.” “Cooperate with what?” Franklin replies, his voice the lightest of the four, calmed more than the rest, “we came here to keep you from catching an infection.” Hand steady, Jack keeps his eye on Rocky, the man’s demeanour not changing at all. As his breathing steadies, Jack keeps the man at bay, refusing to look at his group or afford the camp’s leader an inch of leverage. “Nova Scotia- I know he knows them” Jack replies, his face illuminated only by the flames of burning candles, night having finished dawning upon Rockford. “That’s what this is about?” Nessie hisses, almost more annoyed at the reason behind Jack’s actions than the actions themselves. “That’s what this has always been about- ever since we got away from Sun City” Jack responds, his conclusion providing a villainous overtone, “he’s our ticket there.” “Jack, this is absurd!” Nessie replies, unable to hide the rage she holds for Jack in the moment. “Is it? Is it really? Go ahead and take a peak outside, huh? Tell me what that looks like to you” Jack replies, forced to speak through gritted teeth, “if this is too low of a standard for them, we ought to be on the next bus to Boston.” “You’re basing this on a hunch?” Clint groans, watching Jack’s head shake. “They said there were boats they’d deliver stuff to the mainland on” Jack replies, continuing to stare Rocky down, “I saw the peer when they were bringing us in. It’s been overhauled, and I doubt these guys have the tools to turn a small, waterside dock into one capable of pulling a cargo ship to land- yet, there it is.” “You’ve lost it” Nessie grunts, finally giving Jack the vindication to consult with his hostage. “Let’s ask the man himself. After all, he’s right here” Jack replies, the smile reemerging on his face, “what’s with the dock, Yee-Haw? Selling smuggled Cowboys tickets on the down-low?” With no way to stop the man, Nessie, Clint, and Franklin turn their attention to Rocky, waiting for his answer, as well as for the situation to cease. Scowling, Rocky bites into his bottom lip and offers his answer. “They use it to offload oil” Rocky finally concedes, his revelation, and the true ties it holds to Nova Scotia, putting a look of shock on the group’s face. “Wait, it’s true?” Nessie responds, vindicating Jack’s entire plot by turning her sights onto Rocky’s confirmation, “you’re working with Nova Scotia?” Dissatisfied, Rocky answers with a vitriolic look. “The bastards keep short-changing me” Rocky replies, clearly sharing the resentment he has for the group with those above him, “they use my dock, they load their oil into my warehouses, they sell weaponry made in my factories, and when it comes to giving back what they take- I get scraps!” Squinting in the man’s direction, Jack takes a step backward, lowering the gun a few inches away from the man’s chest. “So, they’re fucking you over, but it’s you that keeps letting them use your ports?” Jack replies, unable to understand the logic behind that. “Have you taken a look around this room?” Rocky inquires, letting Jack take a few glances at the walls, “there’s a light bulb in every corner of this house, yet we’re lighting candles and prancing around in the dark.” Unable to disagree with the man’s logic, Jack lets Rocky continue. “The gas we’re given is what’s left, the food we’re given is what’s left, the medicine we’re given is what’s left” Rocky explains, clearly upset by the situation, “I can’t feed the people here, I can’t treat them without screwing over someone else later down the line- I can’t provide for them. And, if I don’t keep them in check, they’re gonna revolt. And like a bunch of vultures, they’ll circle around and wait for me to die.” “I thought every settlement had to specialise in something- agriculture, or medicine- something Nova Scotia wanted” Jack replies, watching Rocky take humour from his statement. “Yeah, we make guns, and ammo. The stuff you need for war, not for peace” Rocky replies, his statement finished by an observant Franklin. “I’m gonna go out on a limb and assume you don’t make as much as they’d like” the one-armed man responds, watching Rocky’s eyes roll. “Again, take a look around and you’ll see why that is” the man responds, staring back into his gunman’s eyes, “if you don’t feed people, heal them, make them happy- why would they slave over packing casings?” “There’s no oil refinery around here to take over?” Jack replies, again finding his response met with humour. “If I tried to undermine ‘big brother’ up north, I’d be dead before the vultures even thought to form that circle” Rocky replies, ashamed in his own ability to serve and protect enough to shake his head at the thought, “I’m in a lose-lose situation.” With a chuckle, Rocky gives the statement another thought before looking up at Jack, a half-smile on his own face. “As a matter of fact, kid- just pull the trigger” Rocky remarks, holding his hands outwards, “let this hell be someone else’s grave to dig.” Steadying his weapon, Jack keeps his finger resting on the trigger, half of his mind urging him to finish the job he started. “We might be able to help with that” Franklin suddenly interrupts, quick to draw every survivor’s attention toward him, “not the vulture part, or the ‘big brother’ part, but the ‘weapons’ part.” Doubtful, Rocky finds himself at a place in his life where he bothers to hear the man out, unable to find much of a reason not to. “If you can solve the unsolvable, I’ll give you whatever you want” Rocky responds, immediately sparking looks between the group. “We wanna be the first people on the next trip to Nova Scotia” Jack immediately remarks, taking the opportunity that stands directly in his face. “Kid, if you four can solve my problem, I’ll take you with me when the next leader’s assembly gets called” Rocky replies, prompting Jack’s eyes to turn back toward Franklin, silently urging him to hold up his end of the bargain. “Do we have an agreement, Frank?” Jack inquires, waiting for the head nod Franklin wastes little time in answering with. Taking another two steps back, Jack lowers the gun to his side and directs Rocky’s attention onto Franklin. “Alright, where’s this solution of yours?” Rocky questions, watching a cautious Franklin ease himself into an answer. Clearing his throat, Franklin looks Rocky in the eyes, “do you have a boat?” the man asks, keeping his question brief. == Rise == / Four Months Later /
As the cicadas sing beneath the spring heat of solar noon, life in Cumberland goes on, existing as it has since the town’s inception. Neighbours greeting each other in their front yards, united under the same unique privilege, and visibly pleased to do so. Wheeling their trash bins onto the side of the street, gathering at the bus stop to ride public transit to work, and walking their dogs in quiet forest paths, Cumberland’s residents experience their Tuesday for what it is- another Tuesday. “Morning, Sal!” Emilio exclaims, sharing a wave with the familiar face as the man runs a lawn mower over his lawn, dressed in a Hawaiian shirt and cargo shorts. “Morning, Em’!” Sal replies, his front yard not leaving much to offer, though its clean, attended-to appearance weighs high on the man’s list of priorities, “getting started on the summer body?” His sleeveless, grey shirt drenched in sweat along its sides and collar, Emilio gives the question a laugh. “I would have preferred to work on a beach body, but we haven’t invaded the coast yet” Emilio replies, the comfort of a well-made pair of runners aiding him in his run, “I’m not keeping my hopes up on that one.” “Maybe we’ll get there someday!” Sal replies, letting the brief conversation end with a wave, “take it easy, Em’!” Corroborating the sentiment, Emilio ends his run with a return to his hillside home, where he descends his grass-covered lawn in an approach of the front door. Catching his breath, Emilio trots into the kitchen, no sound louder than his quake-inducing footsteps as he reaches for the refrigerator. “Hello to you, too” Salem greets, watching Emilio emerge from the cold box with a drink in hand. “What’s up?” Emilio replies, chugging half of his beverage before panning around the room, “I thought Alicia didn’t work on Tuesdays?” “She’s at the store” Salem replies, sitting on the couch with her eyes glued to a television the room’s length away. “And you’re watching football?” Emilio replies, looking toward the same screen with surprise. “We have tickets to a game tonight- I’m trying to learn” Salem replies, her voice lacking the anticipated enthusiasm. “Have you learned anything?” Emilio replies, lowering Salem’s legs off the coffee table before taking the seat beside her. “I’ve learned that there are Tiger Cats in Hamilton, and that I don’t know what the fuck an Argonaut is” Salem replies, watching the blue jersey-sporting quarterback sail a pass fifteen yards over his receiver’s head, “but it seems they both suck at football.” Amused, Emilio sinks into the couch, prepared to spend the afternoon watching reruns of football games until the sun goes down before a knock lures him toward the front door. “Hi!” Emilio greets, surprised to find another familiar face at his answer. “Hey!” Annie replies, taking instant recognition of the sweat covering his body, “I see the heat’s treated you well.” Friendly, Emilio leans against the doorframe. “Yes, I’ve been given the curse of sweating after physical activities” the man replies, quickly retreating to the obvious question, “is there something I can help you with?” “Yeah, I was wondering if I could use your phone?” Annie replies, squinting her eyes as if ashamed to ask the question. “Of course!” Emilio replies, stepping aside to grant the woman entry, “is everything alright?” “Yeah, I’m just an idiot sometimes” the woman replies, taking the phone off its wall-mounted receiver, “I usually bike from work and then go on my run, but I started my run from the school and forgot I still had to bring my bike back.” Nodding, Emilio watches the woman dial the buttons as he leans into the kitchen’s island, watching her head press against the phone. “My husband and I are hosting a bonfire and I was supposed to pick up firewood” the woman explains, waiting for the man to answer on the other line, “now I’m gonna be late, and I don’t want him to worry.” Returning to the living room, Emilio leaves Annie to make her phone call in peace, the curious look Salem stares at their guest with easily noticed. “What’s with the look?” Emilio whispers, his question recognised with little more than a passing glance, the woman continuing to stare intently at Annie. Quiet, Salem watches the woman make her call, the look Annie’s given completely unnoticed by the bike-bound woman. “Yeah, I love you too” Annie replies, sharing her departing words with the man responsible for the ring on her finger, “bye.” With that, her phone call ends, allowing her to turn back to Emilio with appreciation. “Thank you, I really appreciate it” Annie replies, politely following Emilio’s lead the way she arrived. “Not a problem” the man responds, opening the front door with grace as Annie steps through, only to stop her departure by glancing back. “Hey, maybe you and your friends can stop by if you’re free?” Annie offers, watching a hint of reluctance begin to peer out from Emilio’s smile. “A lot of people around here really want to get to know you all better- I mean, more than just a brief ‘how’re you doing?’ during your runs” Annie explains, slowly chipping away at Emilio’s disinclination. “I don’t want to pressure you. Just, if you’re interested, it’s on Meadowlark Lane. Just look for the big fire, you won’t be able to miss it” Annie explains, her friendly expression making it difficult to deny her offer. “Maybe” Emilio replies, earning a shrug from the woman as she retreats up the hills. “We light the fire at sundown!” Annie warns, resuming her run as if it were never on pause. As the woman sprints away, Emilio retreats inside, closing the door before turning around, finding Salem standing a few feet back with the same inquisitive look on her face. “Can I help you?” Emilio inquires, watching Salem’s hands sink into her pockets as she turns back, answering the question while reclaiming her seat on the couch. “I thought you had a thing for penises” Salem replies, displaying the most humour she’s mustered since arriving in the settlement. “The penis I had a thing for died a few years ago” Emilio replies, standing under the arch between the kitchen and living room, “now I only have a thing for chilli cheese dogs and bacon fries.” With a chuckle, Salem unmutes the television and returns to her spectating, a gesture that bemuses Emilio. “Wait. That’s- that’s it?” Emilio wonders aloud, watching the woman’s eyes take back to him, “you think I turned straight and want to fuck our married, vagina-wielding neighbour?” “You could have used a pairing other than ‘vagina-wielding’, but- no, that’s not it” Salem replies, lowering the television’s volume a few decibels, “she’s just- I don’t know- innocent.” Confused, Emilio rests his hand against the wall. “You say that like she’s a children’s cartoon” the man replies, almost earning another laugh, “she’s nice, sure. She’s very polite too, I’ll give you that. But I don’t really know what you’re trying to get at.” “I’m not getting at anything” Salem replies, again kicking her feet atop the coffee table, “I’m saying she’s innocent, or pure, or whatever. She’s just untouched by everything beyond Cumberland.” Rolling his eyes, Emilio slides a kitchen stool across the ground, occupying the seat. “I thought the whole point of going to Cumberland was to forget about the zombies” Emilio replies, watching Salem’s head shake as she looks back to the game. “The zombies aren’t as much of a threat as they used to be, but the people sure are” Salem retorts, watching the wrong idea cement itself in Emilio’s head. “You think her decency is threatening?” the man asks, only further frustrating the woman. “I’m not saying anything about her other than ‘she’s innocent’, it’s not her I’m referring to” Salem replies, “I’m telling you not to forget that we’re still trying to get to Nova Scotia. We can’t forget that people can still be dangerous.” “Okay, give me a little more than that” Emilio replies, calmly responding to the statement, “I think you’re being a little more vague than you think you are.” Taking a deep breath, Salem restates her thoughts as requested. “I’m reminding you that people will still do what’s necessary if it means cutting in line to get into Nova Scotia” Salem remarks, again muting the television, “they may not kill you to get it, but they can sabotage you if it makes them look better. Selfishness doesn’t die.” “So, you want me to tread lightly?” Emilio clarifies, his answer good enough to satisfy Salem. “Sure, that’d be good” the woman responds, unable to find a better conclusion than the one offered. “I’m gonna get in the shower” Emilio remarks, returning the stool to its place in the island as he departs. The television unmuted for the second time, Salem returns to her viewing, visibly disappointed at the result of the conversation. = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = “Why do you bother with those?” Lauren inquires, watching her coworker remove the I.D card from the pocket of a recently-deceased. “Out of respect” the woman replies, laying the card on the ground, where it joins a small pile of others, “we can’t bury their bodies anymore, so we might as well bury their card.” With a shrug, Lauren hoists a corpse of her own onto a gurney, its padding stripped to just the metal platform a seat used to sit upon. “I used to know a few people that did the same thing” Lauren remarks, driving a small knife through the side of the corpse’s skull. “You used to know people?” the other woman responds sarcastically, “you, of all people, knew other people?” Unamused, Lauren glances up at the woman with a frown. “Yes, Grace, I used to know people” Lauren replies, raising her middle finger at the woman before leading her gurney into a large, semi-lit tunnel. “Well, go on” Grace retorts, following with her own gurney closely behind. “I met a few kids, I think they were eighteen or nineteen at the time? Anyway, it was around the first few months after everything went to shit, and they were in the same camp as me” Lauren explains, met with the silence of a captivated audience, “whenever they’d kill one of the dead, they’d bury their I.D and move on.” “I’m listening” Grace interjects, watching Lauren look back at her, “that’s it- that’s the story” she replies over her shoulder. “You’re not a very good story teller” Grace jokes, continuing to follow Lauren down the long stretch of tunnel, its lights beginning to flicker the deeper they venture within it. “What happened to them?” Grace eventually inquires, spending a few seconds with nothing more than the squeaky wheels to keep them entertained, “the kids with the I.D’s?” The question prompting her to hide a slight discomfort, Lauren opts to answer honestly. “One of them was shot some time ago” Lauren replies, her tone slightly changed, something Grace fails to pick up on, “he didn’t make it.” Tilting her head to the side, Grace asks the obvious follow-up. “And what about the other one?” the woman questions, reaching a large, industrial-sized door at the tunnel’s conclusion, “did they die too?” Pressing her fist against one of two buttons, Lauren makes room for the door to open, parting from the centre. “She left the group I was in shortly before I came here” Lauren replies, watching a large, menacingly dark fire pit appear through the large panels, “I just hope she’s doing well for herself.” Not thinking twice of the woman’s response, Grace accepts the tale for what it is and returns to her duties, dumping the corpse down a small ramp, and watching it slide into the incinerator. “Was there more people in-?” Grace begins to ask, interrupted by Lauren as the second corpse is disposed of. “Let’s change the topic” Lauren replies, preparing to return the way she arrived, “is he still an asshole?” “He’s not an asshole” Grace replies, responding as if she doubts herself, and giving Lauren little reason to believe her. “He’s a narcissistic clown that justifies looking down on people with the figure on his paycheck” Lauren doubles down, raising her eyebrow in Grace’s direction, “does letting you live with him rent free really cancel that out?” “I’d be worse off without him” Grace replies, quick to combat her own doubt with defence, “our job isn’t exactly much more than ‘thankless’, Lauren.” Continuing to walk back to the corpse’s they leave remaining, the sound of childish joy catches Lauren’s ear, bringing her both concern and annoyance. Leaving her gurney aside, Lauren takes to the end of the tunnel, watching the artificial light give way for more natural alternatives, the field she enters bringing her the sight she expected. “Roddy! Randy!” Lauren exclaims angrily, watching two children wrestle in the open space, “I thought I told you not to come out here anymore!” Pulling apart to see Lauren approach them, the boys scamper off, running through the woods as Grace catches up. “How do you become less of a ‘people person’ the more I get to know you?” Grace wonders, watching Lauren from the tunnel’s entrance. “Because I keep meeting people” Lauren sarcastically responds, turning back to the tunnel with a shrug. | “I’m gonna grab something to eat, do you want anything?” Angela asks, forced to shout over the sounds of gathered marching bands in order for Salem to hear her. “I’d like to know why I decided to buy tickets to a sport I know nothing about” Salem jokingly replies, soon gratefully declining the woman’s offer, “I’m good over here. I’ll catch up with you later.” As Angela departs, Salem begins to climb around the cheerful residents prepared for a night of organised violence, looking for a spot on the bench large enough to seat two. Climbing up one step at a time, Salem continues failing to find room, each new row somehow packed more than the row that came before it. Eventually, the woman reaches the highest stand available, her struggle to find room to sit becoming apparent. “I take it you know nothing about sports” Jade calls out, stood near the entrance to a small, yet considerably spacious press box. “I know how to play pool and darts” Salem soon replies, taking a look at the field in the same moment as the ball is sent flying through the air on an opening kickoff. “We’ve got some room in here” Jade politely assures, leaving her statement open-ended, alluding to Salem being allowed to join her. “That solves one problem” Salem finally replies, the accepted offer putting a grin on Jade’s face. “The first rule of going to a football game with bleachers is to get there a half-hour early” Jade explains, stepping aside to let Salem enter, only Jade’s brothers and a pair of cameramen occupying the room. Hesitant to say much, Salem sits in a chair and stares out the window, her sights kept to the play on the field. “Wanna hear a little fun fact?” Jade offers, sat in the seat directly to Salem’s left, answering with little more than a look. “So, they have a football league up in Nova Scotia, and theirs is much more organised” Jade explains, panning back to the game, “and when the coaches don’t like how a player is performing, they’ll come down here, and they’ll ask for the best players at the positions they need, and immediately take them back to Nova Scotia.” “I don’t think she knows what that means” Oliver murmurs, folded hands in his lap as he lays back in a recliner. “It doesn’t matter. The point is that this ecosystem runs so deep, it’s embedded in our sports” Jade replies, raising her finger toward the ongoing snap, “these guys aren’t playing for the love of the game- they’re playing for a job.” “Is that supposed to impress me?” Salem inquires, legitimately uncertain of the answer, “I don’t know what any of that means, so- how am I supposed to react?” Rolling her eyes, Jade looks back to the game, not bothering to answer the question proposed. “Why are you unemployed?” Jade asks, looking back to see how Salem responds to the question. “Because this town won’t hire me as a dead sweeper” Salem responds, “or a cop, or a firefighter, or whatever else you’ve got.” “Why do you keep applying to jobs that give you a gun?” Jade retorts, taking only that from the response. “Why does your town keep refusing to give me a job that lets me have a gun?” Salem counters, earning both a laugh and a nod from her powerful contemporary. “Maybe it’s within the town’s best interest to keep a loaded firearm off you while we can” Jade half-jokingly replies, pausing for a moment before adding to her claim, “though, maybe it wouldn’t be when you’re outside of town.” Reading between the lines of Jade’s response, Salem turns toward her slowly, waiting for the woman to continue. “Choosing to invite you here was one of the easiest choices I have ever made- ever” Jade persists, leaning on the short counter to her side, “when I vetted you and your friends, the one consistent I picked up on was that you- not Emilio, Alicia, Lauren, or Angela- but you have been the most reliable, resourceful, and powerful survivor since the moment the world changed.” Waiting for the punchline, Salem matches Jade’s posture, her arm pressing against the counter as she looks Cumberland’s leader in the face. “Those are the kind of people that are irreplaceable, the kind of people that you don’t want to be on the wrong side of” Jade explains, slowly allowing her smile to reappear, “those are the kinds of people that Nova Scotia likes to see at the front of the line.” Able to see the conversation’s impending path, Salem turns away, looking back to the game as Jade’s offer settles in, cementing itself within the back of the woman’s mind. “You do want to get into Nova Scotia, don’t you?” Jade questions, unsure of the answer amidst Salem’s reaction. “I don’t know” Salem replies, taking little time to give an answer, “I don’t even know if I want to be here, let alone a place three times as big.” Puzzled and intrigued, Jade soon comes across a thought, letting a few seconds pass before testing the waters around it. “Is that why you’re pushing to get in emergency services?” the leader replies, waiting for the change in Salem’s expression, “because you’re homesick for the battlegrounds?” If a change in expression is present, Jade fails to see one, only watching the inquiry bounce off Salem’s shoulders the moment it was asked, unregarded. “I can’t help you if you won’t talk to me” Jade explains, finally getting her change in expression, though not the change she’d hoped for. “Who said I wanted your help?” Salem replies, quick to argue the woman’s statement with a less pleased tone of voice, “who said anything about help? I didn’t.” Her hand held at her chest, Jade presents a display of surrender, alleviating any hostility before it can get out of hand. “It’s not difficult to see that you’re unhappy” Jade replies, a softer voice than the confident one she’d used to this point, “I have the power to give you something you want, but don’t have. I’m only offering my help, should you choose to want it, in getting you whatever that is.” Lulled into the considerate mindset she entered the press box with, Salem lowers her own voice. Listening to the distant sound of referee whistles blaring in the night, Salem stares into the dark sky, pondering her thoughts quietly. “I just want to stop feeling like I’m somewhere I don’t belong” Salem finally replies, looking back at Jade, who appears surprisingly understanding of her request. “It was fine back in Concord, but that was different. We’d been on the road for so long that it was almost like I’d never actually left society. I’d just- I’d just left into the woods for a few months and came back” Salem explains, feeling safe enough to let her guard down. “But it’s different now, y’know?” Salem continues, looking at Jade with worried eyes, “I can’t remember how the world used to work now, but when I think about being on the road, it’s like I’m actually out there again.” Letting her hands fall into the warmth of her lap, Jade lowers her own charismatic facade in a moment of genuine compassion. “It may be brutal and violent, but your world has an undeniable allure to it, Salem” Jade replies, not hiding from her own desires, “I’ve never had to live like you, but I still go out of my way to head out there and vet the people Courtney sends to me. I’m the town’s heart, but even I like skipping a few beats- I get it.” “You don’t get it enough” Salem quickly counters, suppressing a sadness that builds deep within her, “because, when the day ends, you can still come back here and feel like you belong.” | Running through the DVR in a baggy shirt with a bag of crisps, Alicia wastes her evening away with mind numbing entertainment. “Did Lauren get home yet?” Emilio asks, his heavy shoes having gradually tapped on the floor louder as he approached the living room. “She pulled in an hour ago” Alicia replies, impressed at the man’s appearance. “I was just starting to like the beard” Alicia remarks, looking at the appreciative look on Emilio’s clean-shaven face, the only thing more impressive being his ability to make the outfit of a skin-tight, white t-shirt and jeans look appropriate for a social gathering. “My face was definitely disagreeing with you” Emilio replies, grabbing a jacket off the hanger as he prepares to leave, “are you sure you don’t wanna come?” “I’m waiting for my doctor to give me a call” Alicia replies, noticing the confusion on her friend’s face. “Yes, the doctor remains open until the late hours now, Em’” Alicia clarifies, quickly reassuring her appreciation, “I am grateful for the offer, though. I hope you have fun.” Gently nudging his fist against Alicia’s shoulder, Emilio retreats, climbing to street level as he begins the walk toward his destination. Having found his desire to bring a jacket vindicated, Emilio braces against the slight chill in the night as he walks down the street, hands in his pockets as his eyes survey the row of well-kept homes, the fire he looks for found as unmistakably as Annie had led him to believe it would. “Is this the audition for ‘Little Drummer Boy’ or is that the next house over?” Emilio quips, watching the individual, fireside conversations turn to collective cheering. “You made it!” Annie shouts, the first to leave her seat. “Emilio, this is Ryan- my husband” the woman greets, stepping aside for the two men to shake hands. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Emilio” Ryan remarks, “I was living in Hartford while you were campaigning. I swear, that win should’ve been yours.” “Oh, well thank you” Emilio replies, very appreciative of the kind words, “I think I put a lot of effort into it. It’s been so long, though- I can barely even remember it happened now.” Too overcome by the abundance of celebration to worry about how re-entering society would feel, Emilio just moves with the motions. “Annie was telling me that you’d been out there all this time” Ryan comments, “I mean, it’s been three and a half years! What’s that been like?” “Well, I can’t say it’s been easy. As a matter of fact, it’s changed me considerably” Emilio replies, unafraid to reflect on the life he’s lived, “it took my husband, and my friends, and a piece of me I’ll never get back if I’m being honest. But now, I’m here, and I’m ready to make all of that just another chapter in my life.” “That’s what people come to Cumberland for. From what I can gather about the outside, the only way to live is to just view this town as another chapter” Ryan replies, shaking the man’s hand again as he moves on to tend over more guests, “I’ve got to run, but I’m sure we’ll talk again tonight.” Bowing his head, Emilio watches the man depart, left only with Annie by his side. “He seems like a nice guy” Emilio remarks, looking back at the delighted homeowner, “did you get married before or after everything happened?” “We got engaged before, but we had our wedding a few months after” Annie replies, a champagne-less glass of orange juice held in her hand, “between you and me, we’ve been trying to get pregnant for the last few months.” His eyes widened, Emilio looks at the woman with general niceties. “Starting a little family in Cumberland, are you?” Emilio replies, adding humour to the night’s discussion. “Well, sort of” Annie replies, a somewhat guilty look appearing on her face, “when you’re pregnant, or you have a kid, the whole family is the first on board the next trip to Nova Scotia.” Understanding the picture a little better, Emilio attempts to respond, only to be guided away by the sound of his name. “Emilio?” a voice inquires from behind the man, guiding Annie’s guest in their general direction, where they’re met with a look of shock and awe. “What-?” Emilio mutters beneath his breath, turning to find Ameil stood behind him, whilst Heather approaches soon after with Amy by her side, yet to see their once fellow survivor turned neighbour. “You two know each other?” Annie asks enthusiastically, unaware of their shared history. “You- you-” Emilio stammers, visibly unable to comprehend what he’s seeing, “you’re alive?” == Rise == “Why do you call it ‘Cumberland’?” Angela inquires, leaving the question at Jade’s feet as the sky darkens, turning to night. “Because it’s in a town called Cumberland” Jade replies, quickly appearing to rescind her statement, “we didn’t see a point in getting fancy, so we just kept the name on all the signs. Honestly, it was much more cost-efficient.”
“You took over the whole town?” Emilio questions curiously, his eyes pressing closer together as he turns to his left, giving Cumberland’s leader an inquisitive look. “It was a lot easier than you’d think” Jade replies, one arm draped over the side of the truck bed, the other hanging over her bent knee, “at first, all we needed to do was cut off the entry points along two freeways.” “Aren’t most freeways littered with dead cars?” Lauren asks, sat near the rear of the vehicle, “wouldn’t that be enough of a cut off?” With a shrug, Jade responds whilst looking down the road ahead, her hair thrown by unusually cold winds. “Sometimes, it could be. But there were plenty of times where they caused trouble” Jade replies, her poised and animated demeanour never letting up, “after a year or so, we got in contact with Nova Scotia and the rest was history.” Quiet, the ride persists as it had been, veering around automobile-scattered roads in favour of slicing through thick grass, muddy trails, and rocky hills. “How’d you find out about Nova Scotia?” Salem calls out, the distance from the conversation failing to keep her from listening in. “They found us” Jade replies, lifting her voice just slightly in Salem’s direction, “if I’m being specific, it was Courtney that found us. She must have seen a fire from above, I never asked how.” “So she just- flew out of the sky and asked to talk to you?” Alicia replies, slightly amused by the image she’s left to picture, “and you went along with whatever she said?” Aware of the humour taken, Jade maintains her presence, answering the question directly. “When gas is scarce and someone flies down from the sky with a full jerry can, you don’t tend to fire at them” the confident lady replies, “and when they say they can get you more, you don’t tend to doubt them.” Peering through the sunvisor's mirror, Salem watches Jade in the reflection, intently studying the woman. “We met with some of their officials, we negotiated a deal, and expanded the town out to its natural borders” Jade concludes, allowing her legs to stretch out across the flatbed, “we’ve been bringing in people since then- about two years at this point.” “How many people do you have now?” Lauren murmurs, tilting her head back to look out at the sky. “We’ve taken in just under three thousand people- including you. The majority of the town were people that already lived there- that helped us cut off the entry points” Jade replies, quickly finding herself interrupted. “How many people already lived there?” Lauren cuts in, turning her head in the woman’s direction, desiring an answer. “We’ve taken two counts, one ourselves and one with Nova-” Jade begins to reply, again interrupted by the woman on the other side of Emilio. “What’s the number?” Lauren doubles down, the hint of anger beginning to creep into her voice. Her eyes pulling toward Lauren’s direction, Jade pauses to allow the woman respite, “just a little over twenty thousand.” “And you couldn’t make room for an extra six?” Alicia queries, obviously growing resentful. “It’s not that we couldn’t, it’s that we shouldn’t” Jade replies, pulling her arms away from the vehicle’s sides, beginning to speak with them as her response continues. “We can’t just make exceptions for one group when we wouldn’t for any other” the leader explains, beginning to speak with more vigour, “we take the strongest, the smartest, the most adapt, and the most trustworthy. No exceptions.” “So what made us different from the others?” Emilio quickly asks, quashing the emotional escalation he can sense rise near its boiling point, “why are we any of those things the others aren’t?” His face turning to the left, Emilio looks into Jade’s eyes, his question asked calmly, his demeanour unarguably unthreatening. Tongue gliding over her bottom lip, Jade’s head pulls away, briefly considering her options. “Jack was too skeptical of everything, Clint was worthless in combat, and, as tempted as I was to give Franklin the nod, it’d take a miracle for Nova Scotia to accept a handicap” Jade begins, offering her answers in quick succession, “Katie never truly thinking to mourn for her brother didn’t sit well with me, and Jess just didn’t fucking try. Does that cover it?” Panning around the vehicle, Jade looks for reactions, waiting for an answer. “It covers half” Emilio soon responds, watching the woman’s face look back to his own, “what made you choose us?” Letting out a steady breath, Jade lulls herself into a regained composure, answering for each person whilst looking them in the eyes. “Alicia’s judo background can allow her to train some of our own for combat, which makes her valuable in multiple ways” Jade replies, continuing in the order the passengers reside. “Angela understands what her priorities are, isn’t afraid to question herself, and can question things that appear simple for what they are” Jade persists, turning past Emilio, “Lauren displays the ability to do what’s necessary, even in times of difficulty. She’ll make the right call because it’s the right call.” Her eyes falling upon Emilio, Jade goes quiet, plenty to say with such little time. “As for you, I’m shocked you weren’t their leader sooner” Jade remarks, resting her hands over the sides of the truck again, “you’ve survived the lowest times, never stray a beat from ‘Humble Road’, and have the wherewithal to calm a situation by speaking. You were a no-brainer.” His head lowering, Emilio’s attempt to hide his appreciation is aided by Salem’s voice calling out. “You’re forgetting about someone” Salem proclaims, dangling her right hand through the open window. “Do I really need to elaborate on why you’re here?” Jade responds, again letting humour gradually seep into the journey, “I let you call shotgun, doesn’t that say enough?” Her back pressing against the seat, Salem’s face sprouts a grin, almost as if discovering validation. The ride reaching its natural conclusion, Archie guides the vehicle over a hill and back onto paved street, the asphalt the group reaches no longer covered in thick overgrowth. “We like to make our little town look aesthetically pleasing” Jade remarks, noticing the many eyes around her begin to peer out at the clear roadways, almost in shock, “first impressions are important to us.” Speechless, the group settles back into their spots, not wanting to appear anything less than the image Jade’s bestowed upon them. Within another few feet, the road becomes surrounded by well-trimmed trees, their branches lined with rows of Christmas lights as the vehicle begins to slow. “McKee party, five passengers, all vetted, no wounded, no sick” Archie lists, peering through his window toward a man, who stands with a rifle atop a well-hidden platform. “McKee, five vetted, no wounded, no sick” the man relays, shouting down a path of road concealed behind a large, industrial fortification. “Let them in” the man finally urges additional, unseen crew workers, granting them permission to part the barricaded structure, allowing the vehicle re-entry. “Thanks, Sal” Jade murmurs, raising her hand to the platform-stood man as the flatbed passes through the gates, the man’s smile and wave coming from a long-lost era of civility. Glancing back at her residential additions, Jade notices the unnatural looks upon the group’s collective faces, all hiding their deep wonder behind masks of general placidity. “It’s alright for this to feel weird- you haven’t had this in years. It’s normal” Jade comforts, watching every eye dawn upon her, hesitant to give into the allure a simple palisade. Most opting to look away, Lauren keeps her eyes placed upon Jade, who notices this gesture and shrugs. Driving an additional few miles, the truck passes a large, concrete sign in the middle of a roundabout, its lights lighting the town’s name, which stands chiselled into stone. The streets well-groomed, the grass well-maintained, and the trees well-trimmed, a paradise the survivors could only dream of embraces them within its embrace. “Like I said before” Jade proclaims once more, watching every pair of eyes steer back toward her, “it’s normal.” = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = Groaning as he rolls onto his side, Jack pulls his head from the small of his arm and wipes the crust from his eyes, still feeling the warmth of the campfire woft over his face. “Don’t wake up the others” Nessie whispers, taking notice of his awakening from the steps above. Paying the woman a glance, Jack peers across the stairwell, where Clint and Franklin remain asleep on their respective, marble platforms. Keeping his groans contained, Jack rolls onto his back as his hands roll over his forehead, his sweat having given his skin a glossy sheen. “How long have-?” Jack begins to whisper, only pausing as his hands pass by his face, the ring on his left hand momentarily reflecting the fire nearby. “I’ve been up for a few hours” Nessie replies, nibbling at a cooked piece of fat, “the fire was dying out, I just chose to stay up.” Pulling himself up, Jack slides against the marble wall behind himself, using it as a backrest to sit against. “We need to figure out where to go from here” Jack stammers, slowly letting himself cycle through the motions of waking up. “Oh yeah, what’ve you got in mind, sleepy?” Nessie replies, her teeth pressing into her scrambled-together breakfast. “We need a place to stay, we should start with that” Jack replies, hands folded in his lap, “figure out where our next meal comes from, that’ll help.” With a nod, Nessie kicks one foot over the other and replies with humour. “While we’re at it, we should find a plane, make a trip out to the Bahamas and check into a hotel” Nessie replies, her eyes trailing over to the man below, “you’ve thought of it all.” His eyes rolling, Jack presses his head against the stone backdrop, leaving the question in Nessie’s hands. “If you’re gonna criticise me, I’ll assume you have a better plan of your own” Jack replies, paying a look toward a suddenly less-amused Nessie, her eyes rolling as she turns away, “I thought so.” “Why do we need a plan?” Nessie suddenly retorts, lowering herself closer to Jack while she carries the leather cover to a notepad, its usage now as a plate for slices of cooked meat. “What’s the alternative?” Jack replies, the fabric of his shirt riding higher with each shrug of his shoulders, “live life day-to-day until we fall into another camp?” “Would that be so bad?” Nessie cuts back, watching as Jack quickly attempts to restate his point. “I’m not against it, but I’d like to know that we’re trying to get somewhere” the man replies, graciously accepting a slab of buck. “Never living outside of a city might play a big part in that” Nessie replies, wrapping a blanket over her legs while pulling herself closer to the fire. “The city life is always about the ‘hustle and bustle’. You start your day, you end your day, repeat. You’re always working up to something” Nessie explains, her legs pulled up to her chest, “when all that goes away, life just happens. You’re not scrambling to meet a deadline, or dying to get to five o’clock- you just live.” “You can’t do that without a plan?” Jack replies, ripping a piece of meat from its slab. “You can, but it’d be stupid to” Nessie replies, waving her hand out at the dark, apocalyptic scene surrounding them, “when the tunnel vision clears- this is what you’re left with. Just the world as it is. No phones, no deadlines, no end to the work day- just what’s around you.” Quiet, Jack stares at the top of the stairs, the top half of city hall’s entrance peering over the top-most step. “Let’s start with dinner” Nessie concludes, patting Jack on the knee as she climbs up, “we can stay here all we want, but we’re going to need food.” Without another word, Nessie places the leather plate beside Jack and walks off, arming herself with a mallet as she descends the stairs, making for the front doors. | “Welcome to my home” Jade greets, climbing over the lowered tailgate and onto her stone-paved driveway. “This is your home?” Alicia replies, the lavish mansion the McKee siblings depart toward bewildering her. “This isn’t just our home” Jade replies, turning around with her arms stretched out, “this is 18 Rawson- the heartbeat of Cumberland.” “18 Rawson?” Salem replies, the only guest remotely unimpressed. “It’s the address. Like ‘10 Downing Street’, or ‘24 Sussex’- it’s the leader’s home” Jade replies, turning back for the front door, “anything that has to do with official business- negotiations, fundraising, supply-spending… It all happens here.” “And why are we here?” Salem rejoinders, slamming her door shut as she ducks into the strap of her rifle. Leading her key into the doorknob, Jade glances back at the woman with a smile. “Did you think we were just gonna drop you on the side of the road and figure it out from there?” Jade replies, pushing the front door open before vanishing inside. “The town functions like any town you’ve seen before, the only difference is the environment around it” Jade explains, leading the dirty survivors through her hardwood-floored home. “The landlines work, we have hot water, most homes are fitted with solar panels, and most people get around by bike” Jade rattles in quick succession, “dial 0-0-0 if you see a corpse stumbling around, and our crew of just over five hundred will rush over and take care of it- just as if it were a fire or criminal.” Setting her keys into a bowl on the dining table, Jade proceeds through the larger home, continuing her introduction. “The people will be kind, but they’re competitive. You’re all fighting for the same thing- a ticket” Jade explains, sinking her teeth into an apple as she steps into the kitchen, “serve your settlement extremely well and that ticket will be yours. That said, those tickets are hard to come by, so there’s a fair chance you’ll spend the rest of your lives here.” “You make it sound like that’s a bad thing” Alicia replies, still slightly astounded at what surrounds her. “It’s not, but I won’t pretend it’s the ‘cream of the crop’” Jade replies, climbing atop a bar stool and ushering her guests to claim any of the unoccupied seats. “We’ve got similar luxuries- armed safety, stocked store shelves, medicine, fucking football- we have plenty” Jade explains, her finger rising into the air, “but, and I speak from experience, it’s not Nova Scotia.” “Why would we want to go to Nova Scotia then?” Salem replies, the only guest not to take Jade’s offer of a seat, “I don’t suppose everyone has a taste for ‘the big city’.” Her head shaking, Jade finishes her bite before speaking. “That doesn’t matter. It’s just like L.A, or New York- as long as enough people do, the ticket will always be in high demand” Jade explains, sinking her teeth into the bright-red fruit, “if you wish to spend the rest of your life here, that’s your choice.” Sharing glances in each other’s direction, the group remains observant, waiting for someone to raise the first question. “Why keep aligning yourself with the New World Order?” Emilio wonders aloud, setting his sights on any of the McKee siblings for an answer, “if you’ve got it this good, what’s holding you back?” Sharing a laugh, the McKee’s hand the answer off to the oldest of the quarter. “Oil- nothing more, nothing less” Archie replies, pressing his hands together, “without their oil, this place isn’t standing. We can arm ourselves to the teeth, but Cumberland won’t buy anything more than another lost cause on a map of one thousand other lost causes.” “You can’t make your own oil?” Salem replies in somewhat of a suspicious tone, earning another laugh from the man. “We can make whatever we want. Medicine, food, alcohol, oil- you name it, and we have a way of making it” Archie replies, trying to hide the smile on his face, “but it’s not about being fundamentally independent, it’s about the ecosystem set up here.” “Elaborate” Emilio cuts in, interested enough to sit back with his arms crossed. “You see, people don’t tend to think two-dimensionally when it comes to power- which is partly why Angela was invited here” Archie explains, “the key to ruling this world isn’t food- it’s not weaponry, or medicine- it’s oil, it’s gas, it’s fuel.” “We get that” Emilio replies, waiting for the point to come about, “they set up a refinery and took the keys to the kingdom, we un-” “No, that’s not what they did” Archie interjects, watching Emilio’s eyes begin to squint as he’s cut off. “I’ll cut it to you like this- what is refined oil worth if no one’s around to buy it?” Archie inquires, his eyes floating across the table like a lost dog, waiting for a hand to raise. “The lifeline to their grasp on power isn’t the oil- it’s the consumer” Archie proceeds, watching Emilio’s head begin to fall back, finding the path he’s been led toward. “They knew the world was going to hell, and that’s why they set up these compounds. And when those fell, they adjusted” Archie remarks, matching Emilio’s head lean, “they needed consumers and couldn’t rely on their compounds any more. So they helped set up settlements they could get to produce goods, controlled the flow of those goods, and made sure the most priceless good on the market was the one they controlled.” | “Why did you say ‘no’?” Jack inquires, following Nessie through thick clumps of grass, their destination yet to be determined. “I beg your pardon?” Nessie replies, walking a few steps ahead of the man. “Well, I pardon your beg” Jack mocks, his joke received with a silent shake of the head, “but seriously, why didn’t you go?” “Why would I leave my brother behind?” Nessie replies, glancing over her shoulder at the man, thinking nothing of the question. “Because you’re not the only person that can look after him” Jack replies, one hand cradling the handle to his screwdriver, whilst his other rests in his pocket, “I think you already knew that.” Watching her step, Nessie continues to walk, no slower, nor faster, than before. “Are you trying to make a point?” Nessie replies, laying her mallet over the hood of a rundown car, “because, if so, you’re not doing a great job.” Slowly catching up, Jack occupies to seat beside Nessie, his face engulfed in the light of a midday sun. “I don’t think that’s because I lack a point to my question” Jack replies, resting against a shattered windshield, “I think you just don’t want to acknowledge it.” Quiet, Nessie turns toward Jack, waiting for him to continue. “Were your parents abusive?” Jack suddenly inquires, asking with no ounce of ignominy. “E- excuse me?” Nessie replies, the man’s unchanged expression becoming the source of an unreasonable anger. “You’re always there to protect him, and I mean always there” Jack replies, his eyes still shut, “you’re less his sister, and more like his mother. Logic would suggest that, for you to look over him like this, it’s cause someone else wasn’t.” Irate, Nessie presses her fingers together and slaps the man across the face before picking up her weapon and leaving. “I wasn’t implying you were an awful mother” Jack jokes, aware of the woman’s anger despite his lack of care over it. “What the fuck gives you the right to say that!?” Nessie shouts, flustered with an anger largely unlike her. “Does it matter?” Jack replies, rolling back to the ground before approaching the woman once more. “Yeah, it matters- to me!” Nessie exclaims, noticing the unapologetic demeanour Jack responds with. “Well, I’m so sorry I found a button of yours to poke” Jack replies, his own anger beginning to set in. “Do you think this is funny?” Nessie replies, tossing her mallet to the side as she walks up to Jack, visibly confrontational. “No, what I find hilarious is that I’d have the balls to tell my wife to leave for her own good, and you were too concerned with sheltering Clint from the world to make the same choice” Jack replies, anger turning into bitter rage. “It was my choice” Nessie replies, those four words the only ones she’s able to say before Jack interrupts. “And you made the wrong one!” Jack shouts back, quickly becoming more enraged than the woman who began the conflict, “everyone left except you! Why did everyone leave except you!?” “Because I chose to!” Nessie barks, watching Jack’s hands throw into the air as he walks away, de-escalating the conversation as quickly as it went off the rails. Leaving without his weapon, Nessie watches the man step off, seconds continuing to pass without him turning around. “What has gotten into you!?” Nessie exclaims, ushering the man back with the simple question. “What’s gotten into me!?” WHAT’S GOTTEN INTO ME!?” Jack shouts, returning the way he came as his anger consumes him. “What’s gotten into-!?” Jack barks once more, cutting himself off with an inaudible shout as he reaches the car, his body turning to the left as he winds his hand back, sending his fist through the intact driver’s window. “FUCK!” Jack yells, ripping his arm through the shattered glass in a wave of pain, its sensation taking over for the burst of anger. “Why did you do that!?” Nessie exclaims, the anger she’d felt rush through her body immediately turning into concern as she watches Jack drop to the ground. Refusing to answer, Jack groans as he wraps his palm around the open wound, the blood running down the side of his hand as Nessie kneels beside him. “Wrap this around it” the woman orders, her scarf spun over the man’s hand, “hold it tight.” “We’ve got a problem!” Clint shouts, running down the street from city hall as Franklin follows closely behind. “Little busy right now!” Nessie shouts back, preoccupied with tying the ends of her scarf together. “Jess is gone!” Franklin shouts, watching the pair turn toward him with wide eyes, his concern only growing. “What!?” Jack exclaims, pulling away from Nessie to regather himself. “We’ve looked everywhere- she’s not here!” Franklin replies, his heavy breaths turning to a frosty chill, “she’s gone.” | Rolling to a stop, the McKee’s truck halts outside of a large, blue-coloured home just below the top of a hill, it’s right occupied by a smaller home, and it’s left taken by the natural treeline it sits within. “This is your stop” Jade remarks, handing out copies of house keys to her now-former guests. The first to disembark the vehicle, Emilio steps to the hill’s edge, looking down at the spacious, two-family townhouse with a comforted expression. “You’re just giving this to us?” Angela replies, the next to approach the hill’s edge, “for free?” Reclaiming the passenger’s seat from Salem, Jade responds. “It may be hard to come by a six-bedroom house in this town, but I managed” the woman explains, hanging her hand out through the open window, “I don’t want any homeless around here.” “So, we just live our lives?” Alicia replies, watching Salem step down the hill without much of a reaction. “You get a job, you buy your goods, you pay your bills… It’s life as it was with a few updates” Jade replies, patting the side of her door as the truck begins to accelerate, “welcome home, boys and girls.” With that, the McKee’s exit just as they’d arrived, pleased with their introduction and ready to move on. “Something about this doesn’t feel good” Lauren whispers, the few seconds spent staring with surprise offering her time to reflect. “I feel the same thing” Emilio replies, both Alicia and Angela turning in his direction, “like this doesn’t feel right anymore.” Watching Salem disappear inside the left-most door, not a word more to offer than what she’s already given. “We’re just not used to this” Angela concludes, walking up to a garbage bin on the side of the road and discarding her knife in it, choosing to move forward, “it’ll get better” she vows, climbing down the hill and stepping through the right-most entrance. “It shouldn’t feel good” Alicia cuts in, standing between Emilio and Lauren, more hope within her response than the rest, “but I suppose that shouldn’t stop us.” Breaking off, Alicia descends the hill, following Salem into the eastern wing of the home. The last remaining, Lauren looks to Emilio uncomfortably, her expression saying what she can’t put into words. Giving in, Lauren follows the group’s lead, climbing down the hill and leading herself into the eastern wing as Emilio watches, unsure of how to respond. “You’re new” an unfamiliarly feminine voice remarks, jogging toward him in a light jacket and performance shorts. “Yeah, we just got here” Emilio replies, retreating to a friendly greeting, his hand extended with a smile as if the world never changed. “I’m Emilio” the man introduces himself, feeling the woman’s warm hand find his own. “Anastasia, but my friends call me ‘Annie’” the woman replies, quick to stop and move on, “I’ve gotta get home before I convince myself to take a break- but, uh, welcome to the neighbourhood!” “Yeah- yeah, thanks” Emilio replies, watching the woman leave as she arrives, his concerns melting like the snow that puddles along the ground. His smile still present, Emilio takes his attention back to the home, its many windows illuminating one after the other, his group challenging the claims of electricity. Bowing his head, Emilio convinces himself to descend the hill and follow the order, retreating to the comfort of the right-most door, and closing it on his way inside. == Rise == Atop city hall’s split staircase and below the narrower second flight of steps, a campfire roars into the night, set up in the landing space that divides the troubled group in half. Only the fire to warm them, the union sits separately, huddled beneath their own coats, and their company shared with themselves. “Are we really gonna spend the night not talking to each other?” Angela mumbles, most fire-lit faces turning in her direction, whilst hers remains cemented upon the building’s depths.
“Why wouldn’t we?” Alicia replies, sat near the bottom of the right-most staircase, wrapped in a thin blanket, “it’s just another night.” Her eyes pressing shut, Angela presses her lips together as the mug in her hand is guided toward a lower step. “Pretending we haven’t been thrown a curveball yet isn’t going to make it true” Angela replies, pressing the small of her back against the lowest, left-most, marble stair, “it won’t make us feel better, either.” “Are you suggesting we go around the room and voice our concerns?” Jess wonders aloud, her back pressed against a carved-out bannister a few steps above Angela, no fleeting emotion to offer. “I’m suggesting we acknowledge the offer on the table” Angela corrects, earning a muffled laugh from the opposite step. “You were one of the people invited” Nessie replies, sat upon the highest of the right-most staircase, a jean jacket over her shoulders, “it’s easy for you to talk about.” “Splitting up into teams isn’t going to solve anything either” Emilio interjects, nipping the division he can sense brewing in the bud, “if nothing else, it’ll just drive a wedge between us.” Standing against the marble wall between both sets of parting stairs, Emilio’s eyes drift from one side of the camp to the other, watching the attention fall upon him. “I don’t like the idea, and I’m not in favour of splitting up” Angela clarifies, using the calming air to justify herself, “but we should put aside what is asked of us to obtain it, and recognise it for what it is.” Understanding his position, Emilio turns his head toward Angela, offering her the floor with a nod, one the woman comprehends immediately. “If Nova Scotia is exactly as Jade makes it sound like, this is the chance we’ve spent years begging for” Angela explains, panning her eyes over each member of the group, “it’s the first step in getting our old lives back.” “After everything we’ve seen, is going back to the way things were a good thing?” Salem replies, resting her rifle’s stock on the floor, and letting it sway from one hand to the other. “If Nova Scotia is as Jade makes it sound- yes” Angela replies, tucking her hands into the pockets of her jacket, “we’ve all faced our own hells, but none of those make falling asleep without the fear of being chomped on or robbed any less worthwhile.” “Can we not pretend like this is an automatic ticket to Nova Scotia?” Katie inquires, laid on her back at the highest point of the left-most staircase, her hands folded on her stomach, “it’s another Sheol with the possibility of turning into a Sun City- just better.” “It’s also been the ‘M.O’ since I met you” Angela replies, watching Katie’s head roll toward the side, looking down on her from above. “The minute I met you, the whole plan was ‘North Dumpling Island, live there until we die’. That was the whole point!” Angela continues, her voice slightly louder than before, “we had no boat, no food, no plan, no shelter- nothing! But the end goal was always the same- find a place to settle down and make a new life in.” “It didn’t work out well, did it?” Franklin interjects, sat one stair above Alicia, and one stair below Salem on the right-most steps. “In fairness, we had no food and didn’t know our adversaries as well as we thought” Lauren replies, sitting a few steps above Angela on the right-most stair, “but I do see your point.” “We all see both points” Emilio corrects, hearing Jack’s footsteps grow closer as he returns from the building’s lowest level, “we know what we stand to gain, and we know what we stand to lose.” The bottoms of his boots tapping along the marble floors, Jack ascends the lower staircase with the shattered remains of a wooden chair, its legs, arms, and fabric-covered seat thrown from his hands and into the central fire. “I’m heading out for a couple of hours” Jack announces, quickly turning his gaze upon Lauren, “come with me?” Not needing a moment to think, Lauren stands from her seat and follows Jack down the stairs, his departure coming without another word. “Speaking of which, the city should be in enough of a condition for deer to be wandering” Salem cuts in, standing out of her seat with her rifle in tow, “I might be able to come back with some breakfast.” Her rifle laid on the floor to her side, Katie stares toward the ceiling, quietly engaging in her inner thoughts. “I’ll go with you” the improved sniper suddenly mutters, taking a hold of her rifle as she sits up, patting Emilio on the arm as she hurries to catch up to the departing woman. Standing from his seat, Franklin climbs down a step and extends his hand to Alicia, not saying a word as he bobs his head toward the building’s exit. Looking up, Alicia looks at the man’s hand for a moment before taking it, giving Emilio a nod before walking away without a word, leaving behind those that remain. Letting out a deep exhale, Angela stares around the room, realising all that remains are the group’s crumbs, some of whom on the cusp of new life, the rest forced to venture elsewhere. “And then there were five” Angela remarks, turning her body on the step to extend her legs outward, letting her back rest against a wall. “Then there were five” Emilio repeats beneath his breath, falling back to his lean against the back wall, both hands held behind himself = Rise is created by Zachary Serra, all rights to the series belong to Zachary Serra and the entity of Pacer1 from the start of Season 3 onwards = “You’d think there’d more than just a few stragglers here, wouldn’t you?” Katie wonders aloud, crushing tall grass beneath the weight of every step. “I don’t know what to expect from the dead anymore” Salem replies, leading the quest toward the Providence River. “If I’m being honest, I don’t think of the dead as the threat at all anymore- they’re just minor inconveniences” Salem confesses, beginning to step upon broken glass hidden within the overgrowth, “it’s the people I look out for.” Climbing through the shattered windows of what now lies as a once office centre now shielded by the husk of a skyscraper, Katie and Salem advance upon the rear stairwell. “What’s your spin on the offer-situation?” Katie inquires, following her mentor up the concrete-encased stairwell. “I think it’s a waste of time to talk about” Salem replies, each step sending a metallic ring through the slim, tall enclosed box, “some will go, some won’t. What more is there to talk about?” “There’s plenty to talk about, it’s just a matter of whether we want to talk about them” Katie replies, following the woman out of the concrete column and onto a higher floor. “Like what?” Salem replies, unsheathing a knife from her hip before ploughing it into the crown of a straggling corpse’s skull, “what’s the ‘plenty’ we have to talk about?” Her own knife in hand, Katie continues the conversation whilst surveying the level. “A good start would be talking about which camp you fall into” Katie replies, panning a flashlight into dark rooms and the cracks of partially-opened doors. “I don’t care to think about it” Salem replies, cautiously approaching the river-facing side of the complex. “I went with Alicia and Franklin to Concord reluctantly, and I went to New York out of necessity” Salem explains, picking a window to kneel beside, “I’ve gotten more attached to this group than I wanted to. Since some are going to leave and others will stay, I don’t particularly like either option.” “Then why not choose the more favourable of the choices?” Katie replies, pushing random office doors open with her elbow. “Because I don’t think this is a group if it’s fractured in two- it’s just what’s left” Salem replies, slowly rolling the glass panel outward, “it’s like two broken homes, why bother choosing one when it’s no different from sleeping out in the backyard?” Confident in her inspection, Katie pulls back toward Salem, watching the woman prepare her rifle along the windowsill. “Because eventually, it’s gonna start to rain” Katie replies, pressing her shoulder against the concrete wall separating each window from the other, “and, while not completely optimal, at least a broken home will put a roof over your head.” Peering out at the other side of the river, Salem presses her eye against the scope as she waits for the world to turn in her favour. “What if the reason that home is broken is because there’s no roof?” Salem replies, gently pressing her left eye shut, “then all I’ll have left is a box that slowly fills with water until I drown.” Letting her eyes fall, Katie begins to strap gloves over her cold hands, allowing Salem to pursue an answer. “I’m still waiting” Salem remarks, only judging the silence for what it appears to her as. “Then you keep yourself afloat until you reach the top” Katie replies, keeping a smile at bay as she takes her eyes toward the pleasant view of the streets below, “ride the surface until it takes you over the edge.” Taking a few seconds to form her rebuttal, Salem watches a white-tailed deer prance out from a thick set of bushes, the distance between the hunter and the hunted covered by a small, civilian bridge. “Then the rain will continue to pour” Salem replies, steadying her aim on the unassuming creature, waiting for it to stop for her shot to present itself, “and before you know it, the rest of the world is starting to fill.” Staring off at the larger body of water close by, the deer begins to lower its head, picking at the vegetation surrounding him. Her breath steady, Salem slowly guides her finger to the trigger, pausing her shot until Katie’s response concludes. “Then the water will never stop and nothing matters” the woman’s shadow replies, watching the woman prepare for her shot, “the world will just fill until you drown anyway, so there’s no point in any of it.” Her eye falling away from the scope, Salem allows Katie’s response to sit with her, digesting as her crosshair slowly pulls upward, steadying on the farther treeline. Still silent, Salem glances back toward her scope, finding the absence in her line of sight for a few seconds before the deer’s head suddenly pops back up, its left eye directly in the centre of her crosshair. “Take the shot” Katie whispers, watching Salem turn toward her, visibly rattled by the woman’s earlier claim. “It’s yours to take” Katie reiterates, her head nodding toward the deer, “take it.” Her lips pressing together, Salem lets a breath leave her lungs as she stares back into the sight, the deer’s head still in line, perfectly offering her the chance to squeeze the trigger. | “I’ve got him” Lauren remarks, walking ahead of Jack with a sharpened walking stick in her possession. Attracted to the woman’s voice, a corpse pulls away from the diner it had ventured toward, taking notice of Lauren’s presence. With little issue, Lauren drives her weapon through the corpse’s eye socket and guides it to the ground, a smile worn on her face as she does so. “You’re a natural at that” Jack quips, triggering the shopkeeper’s bell as he strolls through the diner’s entry. “I’ve had my moments” Lauren jokes back, following the man into a spacious, yet eerily silent dining room, barely illuminated by the flashlights in their grasp. “Sorry, are you closed!?” Jack bellows aloud, sarcastically up-in-arms over the lack of a response, “this is some terrible customer service, and I demand to see a manager!” “I don’t think we came here for breakfast, hun’” Lauren replies, patting the man on the back as she turns toward the booths, a sudden question popping into her head, “wait, why did we come here?” Laughing with a gust of air through his nose, Jack unsheathes a solar powered lantern from his belt loop and leaves it to rest upon the closest booth. “Sit with me?” Jack asks, sliding down the length of his seat as Lauren takes him up on the offer, joining beside him. “I seriously doubt anyone’s coming to take our order” Lauren again jokes, comforted by Jack’s ubiety. “Yeah, we didn’t come here to eat” Jack replies, folding his hands atop the table as he looks into Lauren’s eyes, the loving look Lauren’s accustomed to receiving in these moments replaced with something unfamiliarly genuine, even from Jack’s perspective Pained as much as he is relieved, Jack tries to present the woman with a smile, but his struggle to do so only shows something less than happiness. The puzzle pieces beginning to fit, Lauren’s curious smile begins to fade, replaced by a look of disappointed awareness. Folding her hands atop the table beside Jack, Lauren fights to part her lips, keeping her sadness at bay as she tries to find the strength to speak. “You want me to take the offer” Lauren whispers, only able to muster a whimper-like voice as she looks into Jack’s eyes, “don’t you?” Slowing his breathing, Jack guides his coupled hands over Lauren’s, his girlfriend’s grasp flipping to take his palms into her own. “I can’t be the reason you throw this away” Jack replies, unabashedly allowing the tears to fall from his eyes as he responds. “Everyone in this group, even if we don’t want to admit it- everyone knows how important this is” Jack admits, squeezing Lauren’s hands harder, “we all just hate the circumstances involved with it.” Her head shaking, Lauren struggles to find the words to refuse, a struggle Jack pushes aside by recapturing her attention. “This is a chance to go back to the way things were- to have a life you were screwed out of getting the chance to live” Jack explains, “this is your ticket back.” Continuing to shake her head, Lauren pulls her eyes back toward Jack’s, attempting to speak through broken breaths. “I don’t think I want that life anymore” Lauren replies, trying to calm the emotions she feels built within her, “-you weren’t in it.” Bobbing his head, Jack fights to push his own emotions aside, riddled with an agony he’s gone years without. “I know. I want to go with you so badly but I can’t” Jack replies, standing firm in his decision, “and as much as this hurts me, I know I’ll never have to be afraid for you anymore. You’ll be safe.” Her head again shaking, Lauren continues to fight a battle she’s aware she stands no chance of winning. “I’m safe here. I’m safe now” Lauren replies, watching Jack take his turn to shake his head. “But you’ll never get to truly be alive, and that’s the point” Jack replies, no less adamant than when he entered the diner, “they can offer you that in a way I’ll never be able to.” Almost masochistically, Lauren continues to argue her point, no more ground gained than what she’d walked in with. “I don’t need anything they can offer me” Lauren replies, “and if they can’t offer me you, none of their offers are worth anything.” Arguing for Lauren’s acceptance, Jack persists. “Do you remember what Angela said yesterday?” Jack wonders, finally forcing a painful smile over his face, “she said ‘being alive was the most important thing’ and Jade argued that being alive wasn’t worth anything without safety, and care, and a home, and the rest!” Their coupled hands falling into the space on the booth between them, Jack finishes his point. “Jade was right- you can’t honestly have one without the other” the man explains, a tear falling upon his knuckles as it runs from his cheek, “I can try to offer you everything, but you’d never get the chance to fully be alive.” “I wouldn’t be alive if it weren’t for you” Lauren replies, unashamed to acknowledge her greatest lows, “if we’re judging the most important factors for me, nothing’s higher on that list than you.” Bowing his head, Jack holds down the grief he feels kicking up. “Then take the offer I made it possible for you to get the chance to have” the man replies, doing what he feels is right on the back of Lauren’s claims, “this is what we’ve waited for… The chance is here for you to take.” Caught by surprise at the sense of something small being dropped into her palm, Lauren slides her hand out from within Jack’s, where a ring rests just below her thumb. “The world ended to bring us together” Jack whispers, reclaiming the ring as he slides it over her finger, retaking her hand as their eyes lock again, “when the time comes, it’ll bring us together again.” | Handcuffed to the door of a car and heavily devoured, a trapped zombie earns the remorse of an aggravated Alicia, who drives her handcrafted spear through its eye socket. “You want me to go?” Alicia aggravatedly remarks, watching the sky begin to lighten as a new morning dawns. “I think you should, yeah” Franklin replies, calmly following the woman through the once-busy streets of downtown Providence. Her head shaking, almost as if she can’t believe what’s asked of her, Alicia walks away, angrily storming over tall grass with no destination in mind. “I don’t like it either, but I can’t deny what you’d be missing out on” Franklin replies, continuing to watch the woman march on, “this is the only real shot we’ve ever had at ‘getting back to normal’, even if not all of us can get there.” “What makes you think I want things to go back to normal!?” Alicia turns back, her words bouncing through the narrow streets as she shouts in a fit of anger. “Because you do, just like we all do” Franklin replies, slightly raising his voice closer to a yell, “and if we were all given the chance, we’d already be in Jade’s truck.” “Exactly! That’s the point!” Alicia shouts, her frustrations only continuing to simmer, “we weren’t all given a chance, so what’s the point in taking it!?” Falling silent, Franklin strolls up to the corpse-chained car and sits upon its hood, patting the spot beside him for Alicia to occupy. Her anger brushed aside, Alicia turns back, taking the spot beside the man. “Even if we don’t all get the invitation, some of us do” Franklin replies, resting his hand on the woman’s thigh, “if you all decline, we all lose out. But if you all go, at least some of us will get to win. Even if we aren’t happy about missing out, it’d be selfish not to want you all to win.” “Even if I win this, I lose you” Alicia replies, tracing the veins in the man’s thigh-rested hand with her finger, “and if I lose you- I just lose.” Letting out a laugh, Franklin places his second hand over Alicia’s own, shaking his head with a charming grin. “No, you don’t. You win for the both of us” Franklin replies, pressing his lips against Alicia’s own for a quick kiss. As their lips part, Alicia loses herself looking into Franklin’s face, fixated by a sudden sense of comfort amidst fearful times. Pressing her lips back against Franklin, Alicia keeps the kiss going, returning her lips to the man’s own each time a new kiss breaks. | “Very clean shot” Katie remarks, the rifle draped over her back as she follows Salem over the grass where her dead deer rests. “I’ve got a lot of those” Salem replies, wrapping twine around the deceased animal’s rear legs as Katie watches, her hands tucked into her pockets. The air silent, Salem wraps the restraints around the animal while Katie stands by, waiting for the next set of words to leave Salem’s lips. “How’d you do it?” Salem inquires, her teeth grating against the twine until it snaps, allowing her to tie off the loose ends. “You’ve always been the first person to listen to reason for as long as I’ve known you” Katie answers, her head hanging closer to the ground as Salem begins on the front legs, “I just needed you to listen to reason again.” Struggling to find the words to respond, Salem remains quiet, again using her teeth to split the rope. “I’m not good with this kind of thing” Salem mutters beneath her breath, just loud enough for Katie’s ears to catch. “I’ve never liked goodbyes, either” Katie responds, watching as Salem hoists the buck over her shoulders, her fingers wrapping around both legs as their faces take to each other’s. “If I’m being honest with myself, part of the reason I came out here was to avoid saying goodbye to the others” Katie explains, slowly removing the rubber gloves from her hands. “I don’t care who does, or doesn’t, go. I just wish the best for everyone involved” Katie explains, her gloves tucked into her back pocket as she looks back to her mentor, forced to squint as the sun begins to rise over Salem’s back, “give them my best, will you?” A gut wrenching feeling of sadness rupturing deep within her core, Salem silently nods to Katie, who flashes the woman a grin. Emotional without needing to shed tears, Katie’s eyes wander toward the distance, avoiding eye contact. “I’m not John’s ‘right-hand’ anymore, and I’m not Troy’s sister anymore” Katie comes to the acceptance of whilst letting a sigh leave her lungs, “I think- maybe- it’s time I find out.” Nodding as she presses her tongue to the corner of her lip, Salem remains quiet, settling for the first thing that comes to mind. “I didn’t expect this to be a ‘goodbye’ from both of us” Salem remarks, watching the younger woman look at her with a smile of her own. “It’s not a goodbye” Katie replies, beginning to walk backward from the way she and Salem had arrived, “it's ‘good luck’ and ‘see you again someday’.” Turning her body in the direction she walks, Katie proceeds to stroll away, her mentor watching her depart until her figure is no longer visible. | “I got it” Angela remarks, stepping through city hall’s entrance as Emilio strolls through the front door, carrying a large car seat up toward the fire pit as Angela drives her knife into the side of an undead skull. “Why would she just walk off?’” Clint queries, watching Salem skin her catch in preparation for dinner. “I didn’t bother to question her” Salem replies, dropping a chunk of bloody fur onto the floor, “she wanted to leave, and I wasn’t going to make her stay.” “And then there were four” Nessie murmurs, watching Alicia and Franklin step through the building’s front doors. “Well, maybe five” Clint jokes, alluding to the shirt Alicia now wears inside out, “are condoms and birth control an easy thing to come by nowadays?” Her eyes rolling, Alicia walks up to Clint and flicks her finger against the man’s forehead. Watching the car seat burn in a sea of flames, Alicia gives her answer. “If none of us go, we all lose- but if some of us go, we all win” Alicia remarks, turning her sights on the man with the curly hair and rough beard she looks to as the leader, “I’m going.” Quiet, Emilio gives the woman a nod before turning away, climbing the left-most staircase without a word. “If the two of you are going, then I am too” Angela replies, climbing the stairs to rejoin the group beside the fire. “Then I wish the three of you luck” Nessie replies, slouching back against the marble stair, “I’m not going anywhere.” Allowing the conversation to unfold without him, Emilio begins to journey through the dark confines of the building, feeling a sense of loneliness despite the ongoing conversation behind him. The menacing interior poorly lit, only darkness faces him, a lightless, blank void with nothing to say for itself. “They need you” Jess’ voice remarks, the woman’s frame hiding within the shadows as if she were speaking on their behalf. Turning to where the voice sounds to be coming from, Emilio follows it to the source. “They don’t need me” Emilio replies, carefully stepping forward, one foot placed before the other, “they need each other more than they need me.” “And look how that’s working out” Jess replies, her voice staying low to the ground, “they’re dropping like flies without needing to die. That’s not what leaving is- that’s abandonment.” Pressing his hand against a smooth, glossy wall, Emilio presses his back against it and slides to the ground, occupying the seat beside Jess, who claims residency over the floor, cold and alone. “They’re choosing to live” Jess replies, her voice sad in nature, but empty when presented up close, a withered husk of someone that used to feel life as it was intended. “You keep saying you’re not the leader, but that doesn’t explain why you’re so hush to the topic” Jess confides, turning her head toward Emilio’s, “why aren’t you choosing to live?” Her breath colliding with the side of his face, Emilio turns to look toward the woman, his chest heavy as if weighed by burden. “Why aren’t you choosing to live?” Emilio counters, unable to watch the woman’s face turn away, no expression in her expression, “you were given the same questions. Even if you didn’t know what you were answering for, you were the only one that threw their choice away.” Enough breath being blown through her nose to be mistaken for a laugh, Jess presses the back of her head against the wall. “A man walked into our lives, murdered my husband, and murdered my child” Jess replies, returning her face toward Emilio’s, “and, in doing that, he murdered me.” Waiting for a response, Jess turns away, staring off into the darkness once more. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose a child” Emilio replies, pressing his own head against the wall, “but I do know what it’s like to lose a husband.” Taking a strong dislike to the conversation she anticipates being started, Jess closes her mouth and lets Emilio speak anyway. “I’m not the same man I was before Bill died, and I’ll never claim to be. But I’m stronger than I was, and I don’t know if that would have been possible if he were still here” Emilio explains, unsure of Jess’ reaction, “and, in time, you will be too.” Remaining silent, Jess lets the conversation die there, keeping quiet until Emilio gets up to leave. “You should go with them” Jess suddenly remarks, waiting for Emilio to walk a few steps away before doing so, “choose life.” Staring in Jess’ direction for a few seconds, Emilio turns away in silence, leaving the void to return to the campfire. | “Do you think they’re coming?” Archie wonders, standing beside the driver’s door as Isaac occupies the backseat. “This is one of the rare times where I honestly don’t know” Jade replies, turning her head toward Oliver with a smile, “it’s exciting.” As the sun begins to lower over the nearest set of towers, a fleet of people emerge from the street below, their minimal belongings carried in tow. “I won’t bother calling out names, you already know who you are” Jade remarks, releasing the tailgate from its restraints, “everyone coming along climb aboard, those that chooses not to- don’t dirty the truckbed.” Maintaining her distance, Nessie folds her arms and keeps to the rear of the group, watching the rest of the survivors interact accordingly. “We’ll find each other again” Jack whispers, placing his hands to each side of Lauren’s head as they share a kiss, “I promise.” Pulling each other into an embrace, Jack parts his arms to keep himself from changing his mind, allowing Lauren to deviate from the pack. “I’m gonna miss you” Alicia whispers, pulling out of her embrace with Franklin. “I’m gonna miss you, too” the man replies, watching Alicia board the back of the pickup. “I call shotgun!” Salem exclaims, strolling around the side of the vehicle as Angela climbs into the back, not a further scene made. “Well, I’m certainly not gonna argue with her over that” Jade replies through humour and a slight fear, only one answer left to hear. “Is that all we’re taking?” the woman exclaims, loud enough for the entire group to hear, though her eyes take to only one man in particular. His hands tucked into his pockets, Emilio looks up at Jade, the woman’s hands coupled at her lap as her bold eyes anxiously await his answer. Taking a glance in Jess’ direction, Emilio tilts his head to the side, as if to ask the woman for her blessing. With a shrug, Jess gestures the decision back to him, satisfied with the argument she’s made. Letting out a sigh, Emilio gives the group a nod before turning to the truck and climbing aboard, the choice putting a slight smile over Jade’s face. “And then- there were five” Jade replies, reaching down to shut the tailgate before settling into the truck bed, letting the day die in preparation for a new one. As her brothers enter the vehicle, Jade turns her face toward the group, a pleased look worn on her face with pride. “You all made a very good decision” Jade remarks, feeling the vehicle jolt forward as it begins the long drive back home, “welcome to Cumberland.” With that, Jade goes silent, staring off at the fine work nature’s done to the city while her passengers watch their group grow farther away. Keeping his head forward, Emilio looks down the road they’ve yet to cover when something catches his eye. Standing out from his seat, Emilio unsheathes an axe from his belt as he presses his foot against the truck’s side, watching a single corpse stumble toward the vehicle. “You don’t need to worry about those anymore” Jade comments, watching the man look her in the eyes with doubt. Without a word, Emilio winds his arm back and slices through the corpse’s skull, spilling fragments of decomposed matter over the dead grass before settling back down in silence. == Rise == |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
October 2023
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